


Pokemon Bet; Or How I Learned To Appreciate the Post-Apokepocalypse

by Automatonation



Series: Pokemon Bet [1]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Brutal Pokemon Combat, Dealing with Pokemon Sapience, Gen, Lots of named pokemon, Post-Apocalypse, Reasonable Pokemon Biology, The humans don't have powers that is., This is still the Worm-verse so things can be dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-11-27 16:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 71,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20951642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Automatonation/pseuds/Automatonation
Summary: In 1982, a bizarre horse-like creature appeared in the sky, and every animal on Earth transformed into an equivalent Pokemon.  Humanity collapsed, and is now beginning to rebuild.Follow the story of Rachel Lindt as she struggles to survive as a new Pokemon Trainer, and makes friends along the way.This is a non-voting archive of an ongoing quest on Sufficient Velocity, so if you like the story, please pop over and join in here: https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/pokemon-bet-or-how-i-learned-to-appreciate-the-post-apokepocalipse.55871/





	1. Chapter 1

The small lecture hall is dimly lit, banks of uncomfortable desks in curving lines, rising up from a central stage. You twiddle your pencil, shift the papers lying face down on your desk, bite your lip. This is it. The big one. The test that makes the difference between going out into the world as a Licensed Trainer or being stuck at home. You grit your teeth.

A spotlight comes on, highlighting a tall, well-built man in dark slacks and a crisp white labcoat as he steps onto the lecture stage. Light glints off his glasses as he looks out over the small audience. “It has been thirty years since the Event occurred, and Pokemon appeared on our world. Three decades of death and loss, sorrow and struggles. Three decades of growth and learning, trials and victories.” He pauses, meeting everyone's eyes. Even from your seat, four rows back, you notice that his beard looks like it was trimmed with a ruler. “You are the legacies of those trials and losses. Everything you know, comes from the blood, sweat, and tears of those who came before you. Now is the time where you give back, pay back what you have used, and gather new information for those who will come after you.” He adjusts his glasses. “You likely know me. My name is Professor Colin Wallis, and I am the head of the Pokemon Ranger Team, Research Division, here in Brock Town. While we may now live in a world of Pokemon -” he pulls out a Capsule and releases a huge, floating metal Pokemon with four angular arms, strips of steel crossing over its body. That's a Metagross, you think. “-I have confidence in humanity's ability to survive and thrive in the face of adversity. My confidence in you...” A small smirk. “Well, that begins with this test. Good luck.” With a flare of red light, the Pokemon is returned to the ball, and the lights come up in the hall as Professor Wallis strides over to a lectern.

You flip over the first sheet.

_Are you a boy or a girl?_

Well, duh.

**[X]{Girl} Rachel Lindt**

Next question:

_Multiple Choice:_

_The catastrophe that began on April 1st, 1982 is commonly called _________. What occurred on that date?_

Simple. B. “The Event”, and the vast majority of mundane animals on Earth spontaneously mutated into what later became known as Pokemon. And then about a billion and a half people died over the next couple of years.

Next question…..

You tap your eraser on the test paper, glowering at the question on the sheet.

_List the known Pokemon Types:_

Fucking tests.

_Normal, Fighting, Dark, Psychic, Ghost, Dragon, Steel. _ That's seven. _Fire, Water, Air, Plant, Ice, Rock, Electric._ Fourteen.

Tap, tap, tap.

_Fairy. Bug._

Sixteen.

_Poison_.

Shit. You know there's eighteen. Fuuuck tests.

You look back over the list, and have to keep from snarling as you scribble down the last one.

_Ground_. Because just Rock wasn't good enough.

Let's see.

Mark VII PCS-Capsules have a 45% capture rate when the Pokemon is not injured or distracted.

The Pokemon Containment System was invented in 1990 by Dr. William Hayes and Dr Whires… what the fuck was her first name? Something B…. Barbara. They later got hitched and did the stupid hyphenated yuppie thing so they would be the Doctors Hayes-Whires.

Electronic Pokemon Encyclopedia, invented by… you chew on your eraser, before scrawling "Fuckwad McDoesntmatter" in small letters in the space available.

You skip the next three questions, dumb history shit.

Let's see. Approximately 800 Pokemon documented world-wide, with around 300 to 400 common in the United States.

Largest documented Pokemon: Kyogre, over 400 feet long, estimated to weigh dozens of tons.

Most common Pokemon: Probably Rattata, the damn things were everywhere. Bug Pokemon were the most common type, but there was such a variety of similar ones competing for resources that it was impossible to say which was most common.

You breeze through the Pokemon questions, the important ones, the ones that you knew or you died. Just because you don't really care about the history shit doesn't mean you're dumb. Yet it seems like no time at all, before the bell goes off, marking the end of the two hour test. You glare at the paper, before flipping it over.

"Pencils down." Professor Wallis grunts. "Bring your papers to the front and place them in an envelope, before setting them on my desk. You will be called to an instructor's office once the test has been reviewed.”

You follow his instructions, before stomping out of the lecture hall, hands shoved in your pockets, shoulders hunched forward, and push through a cluster of girls heckling a tall, slender girls with long, dark hair. Ignoring their squalks of protest – and the brief look of gratitude from their victim as she slips away – you make your way to the cafeteria. While the quality isn't that great, the cafeteria serves decent quantities of edible food, and you learned at a young age that food is fuel. The lunch workers slap down a hefty portion of imitation meat product, potatoes, gravy, and mixed vegetables in your tray, and you make your way to an empty table. Your fork is in your mouth when another tray clatters onto the table, and fucking Greg sits down opposite you.

“Hi, how was your test?” he babbles, blue eyes glinting under ratty blonde hair. You couldn't stand the brat.

“Fuck off.” You mutter under your breath.

Greg snickers. “Yeah, it was a breeze. Think I scored 100%!” The worst thing about Greg was that he always seemed to fill in your half of the conversation in his head, regardless of what you said. Sometimes it was best to humor him.

“I answered the important parts.”

“Ah, who am I kidding, you're gonna do great! I can't wait to go catch some brand new Pokemon that nobody's ever see before! We're going to make history!”

“There's no we.” Seriously? Is he inviting himself along with you?

“I was thinking we should start off in the old Trainyard, pick up some wild Steel-types to train. I heard that the Magnemite are really active, but an Aron would be good too.”

“We aren't working together.” You try to keep yourself from growling.

“And then once we have a good strong team put together, we can go take on the Wilds together.” He grinned. “Just think, Rach. You, me, just a tent and the wilderness.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You stand, slamming your fists into the table. “There is NO US!” You bellow, and the room goes silent. Greg's eyes go wide. Good, finally listening. “Fuck off, Greg. I don't want to partner with you. I WILL not go anywhere with you, because I'd be too busy trying to keep your hands off my ass and your head on your shoulders to keep some wild Pokemon from biting my own damn head off.”

“But-”

“Greg. Nobody likes you. You don't listen when people talk.” You snort. “Other people are just too nice to call you on your shit.”

“I -” and now the little fucker is trying to cry.

“Get your damn head out of the clouds and actually think for once,” you growl. “And fuck off and let me eat.” You sit back down, and the silence erupts into a storm of giggles and chatter. Greg leaves the table, his tray of food forgotten. Fucking moron.

You had just about polished off the last of your mixed vegetables when the intercom chimes. “Rachel Lindt, report to Instructor Office Three.” Quickly shovelling the last of your food in your mouth, you drop off your tray, before hustling to the office. You were the first one called... And you don't know if that's good or bad. Your gut churns like it's full of Caterpie and Wurmple. Skidding to a stop in front of the plain wooden door, you take a breath, in and out, before straightening your spine and knocking once.

“Come in.” The instructor's voice was a cheerful baritone, with just a hint of roughness. You relaxed slightly, and open the door. You hadn't been in this office before, and they tend to get rotated between convalescing Rangers acting as instructors before heading back out into the Wilds. This office was lived in, posters with prints of fight clubs, both human and pokemon, taped to the cinderblock walls. A battered coffee urn stood on an overflowing file cabinet in one corner, but your eyes are drawn to the man standing behind the desk. Burly and scarred, like many veteran rangers were, his shortcropped hair starting to grey, the instructor stuck out one hand for you to shake, before glancing down in mock dismay at the pincered prosthetic adorning the end of his arm and giving you the other hand. You can't help but grin a little. “Ranger Instructor Ethan Holland, at your service.”

“Rachel Lindt.” You reply with a nod and a shake of his hand.

Ethan grins, the easy smile twisting the acid burns on his face. “I took a look over your test. Interesting answers.”

“I don't give a shit about the history.” You tell him. “Knowing that the PCS Capsule was invented in 1990 isn't going to do shit if I don't know when to throw one or how far to run before I turn to check and see if it worked.”

The instructor chuckles. “I thought the same thing.” His expression goes stern. “The trick is knowing what history is important, and what is not.” He sits down at the desk with a grunt, spreading out your test in front of him. “But yes, the test is weighted based on practical knowledge.”

“I passed.” You state, with confidence you don't feel.

“You did.” Ethan confirms. “I just want to make sure that you're taking this seriously.”

“Is there another way to take it?”

“Here's a bit of trivia: How many of last year's class is currently active?” Ethan's expression is calm and still, his eyes bright and watching yours.

You shrug.

“Thirty-five graduates.” the scarred ranger states, tapping his prosthetic on the table. “Currently twelve are still active Ranger Cadets, another six have retired with partner Pokemon in civilian roles. Five are recovering from non-critical injuries. Three are crippled, but alive.” Ethan watches you for a long moment.

“The rest are dead.” You conclude.

“Yes. Nine young adults, just your age, out of this small class of a local PRT Trainer school, died in less than a year. That's an improvement. The graduating class of thirty-eight the year before had only ten survivors by the end of the year, nine of whom are still living.” The instructor sighs. “Being a Trainer, whether you're in the Ranger Corps, freelance, or however you want to approach it, is a thankless, bloody, dangerous job. People you know will die.” He meets your eye again. “You may die. Hell, the odds are against your survival.”

You nod, gulping. “I know.”

“I know you know.” A smirk. “And now that you know that I know that you know about your inevitable, likely immenent demise, it's time to get to the important part.”

“My Starter.”

“Straight to the point.” Ethan pulls out a metal briefcase and unlocks it, before spinning it to face you. “I have three potential Starters for you.” He pulls open the case, and you see, sitting in foam cutouts, three Capsules. Metal spheres the size of softballs, the matte grey spheres have three black, rubberized gripping surfaces positioned equidistant around the ball, one on the bottom half, the other on the top, with a recessed groove with a circular release button marking the center. All three have red light glowing from the ring of LEDs around the button, showing that the balls are occupied. You reach out a hand to touch one, the metal slightly warm to the touch.

“You had put in a request for 'Dog Pokemon' when you put in your preference request for Starters.” Ethan states conversationally. “Not the oddest request, but a little difficult to fulfill while still meeting internal PRT requirements.” He pushes forward three glossy photographs.

“First of all, there's Houndour. Dark/Fire, classic hell-hound asthetics. They tend to be sneaky, vicious bastards, like many Dark types, but surprisingly loyal to a good traner. This little lady is pretty energetic, from what I've been told.” You look at the photo, and feel your mouth twitch into a smile at the picture of a playful black and orange puppy, the white ridges of bony armor renforcing its ribcage as it spins away from the camera, chasing a stub of a tail.

“Electrike. Pure Electric, with some fascinating static generators and reinforcers built into that elongated skull. Overall, they tend to be geared for speed, rather than durability, but once they evolve, the electric power is not to be sneezed at.” The photo shows a curled up lime-green dog, built a bit like an old-world terrier, but with a bulbous, elongated head. “This one is a boy, and a bit sneaky.”

The third photo wasn't a dog. “Oshawott. True, it's an otter, but these Water types are loyal, gregarious, and do well in teams, and once it hits its final evolution, it's a major powerhouse, very tough to take down, with powerful offense and defense. This one's male, and has a bit of a mischevous streak.” The little blue and white otter was absolutely adorable, that's true...

Ethan grins at your expression. “Take your time.”

You look over the pictures, biting your lip. “I choose....”

“Houndour.” You finally state. “I'll take the Houndour.”

Ethan smiles broadly. “Something told me that would be the one you picked.” He pulled out the middle Capsule and handed it to you. The ball is oddly light, for a softball-sized sphere of aluminum and circuitry. You run your thumb over the central ridge, heft the ball in your hands as your fingers naturally grip the black textured areas. “Take her to the yard before opening the Capsule. She won't attack you, but she's still untrained.” He stands and offers you his hand to shake, and you take it solemnly. “Being a Trainer is about trust. We are trusting you with a Pokemon, trusting you to raise it and protect the rest of us. I think you're ready. Are you?”

You nod. “Yes, I'm ready. Thank you.”

The scarred instructor grins. “After you get to know her a little better, report to Requisitions to get the rest of your kit.” He steps around the desk and opens the door for you. “And Rachel?”

“Yeah?”

Ethan smirks. “Knock 'em dead, kid.”

“I will,” you reply with a grin.

You exit the office, slipping the Capsule into a cargo pocket on your heavy canvas pants, and make your way to one of the enclosed training yards behind the Trainer building. You had spent many hours inside them with your classmates watching instructors demonstrate techniques, ranging from proper Capsule handling to Pokemon battle training tips, and the tall concrete walls and short-trimmed grass were comfortable and familiar. Yard 5, which had a couple of tall oak trees inside to provide shade, was one of your favorites, and once the gate was securely locked from the inside, you pull the Capsule from your pocket and sit down on the soft grass, leaning back against the tree. From your other cargo pocket, you pull a plastic bag with some dried Basculin jerky. The tough water-type Pokemon had meat with a texture that closely resembled beef, from what you had been told by those old enough to have tried beef before all the cows turned into Tauros or Miltank, and there was a market vendor on the Boardwalk that prepared jerky from the Basculin that he caught in the Bay.

Quickly ripping a piece of jerky into small bits, you seal the bag again and store it in your pocket, and put a single bite-sized chunk of preserved meat just within arm's reach. Ok…. Deep breaths. You press the large release button in the middle of the Capsule with your thumb, and place it on the ground, facing away from you. A stream of red energy flows from the ball, and coalesces into your new Pokemon. The Houndour stands about eighteen inches at the shoulder, covered with sleek black fur. Her belly and underside of her jaw are bright orange, and she has bony armor resembling bone covering her ribcage, with a skull-shaped bone plate on the top of her head. Bone anklets sit on powerful legs above oversized, puppy-like paws on each of its four limbs. Overall, the Pokemon gives the impression of power, but also potential for growth. She shakes herself, sits back and aggressively scratches at one pointy ear with her hind legs, tongue lolling out happily. Your heart melts a little – you had missed the Arcanine that had guarded your first shelter more than you thought.

The Houndour finally noticed you, and springs to her feet, hackles beginning to raise. Moving slowly, you pick up the piece of jerky and hold it out to the spooked Pokemon. “Shhh… It's ok, girl.” you call, keeping your voice soft and even, calming and steady. “You want a treat?”

The Houndour slowly relaxes, and steps cautiously towards you. Her eyes are large and black, with just a spark of flame, deep in the depths of her pupils. “Aren't you a pretty girl? You want a little snack?” You hold out the jerky between your thumb and fingertip, and she sniffs at the air, padding closer. “That's it, good girl. I'm gonna call you Angelica, how's that?” Angelica delicately pulls the bit of jerky out of your hand and darts away, settling down about ten feet from you and gnawing on the meat.

The process repeats over the next few minutes, with Angelica retreating less each time, until she is cautiously settled beside you, gnawing at a larger chunk of fish jerky, letting you scratch and stroke her fur. She likes it when you pay attention to where the bony rib armor rises out of her fur, her stub of a tail wagging furiously when you dig in your fingers. Carefully, you work your way up her neck to the top of her head, scratching between her ears and around the skull plate. She's less tense now, leaning into your touch. “Angelica.” you state, and her ears perk as she turns to look at you. You smile, carefully not showing teeth. “Good girl.” Thump thump thump goes her tail.

Pokemon are smarter than old world dogs, and after getting her used to praise and treats, you are able to walk Angelica through basic commands within a couple of hours. The Houndour is energetic, yes, but eager to please. She feels a little starved for attention, and you wonder if she was bred from Tamed Houndoom or whether she was a wild capture. You're jogging along beside the Pokemon as you take laps of the training yard when the final bell for the day rings. Four o'clock, time to make your way to Requisitions… And then to the Shelter. You sigh, and Angelica whines questioningly. “It's ok, girl.” You state, and she pants happily in response. “Return!” you order, and press the button on the capsule. Angelica braces herself, but doesn't run or fight when the beam of red light envelops her and pulls her back into the ball. Smiling slightly, you drop the ball in your pocket and make your way out of the yard.

As you are walking through the hallways to the Requisition Office, curtly ignoring the few remaining scattered teens in the hall, you hear a soft voice behind you. “Hey.” You stop and turn, glowering at the girl standing behind you, hands held behind her. She's tall, a bit scrawny. Nobody is really fat anymore, but she's not in the best of shape. Round glasses, dark curly hair that's long enough to be slightly impractical, but obviously well-cared for, even to you. You recognize her, but don't remember her name.

“What?”

“ummm… Thanks.” She mutters, not meeting your eyes.

“For what?” You're honestly confused for a second, and then you remember where you saw her last. The girls were making fun of her after the test. “Oh. I was just walking.”

“Still. Thanks.” She smiles a little, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I'm Taylor. Taylor Hebert.”

“Rachel Lindt.” You reply. What to say? “You pass the test?”

“Yeah.” She seems to dither for a bit. “Got a Bulbasaur for my starter.” Taylor smiles, which does a lot to improve her wide, thin-lipped mouth. “One of a handful of plant-types that routinely eat bugs, rather than the other way round.”

“Really? Thought that there was some type weaknesses there?”

“Yeah, there are, but Bulbasaur will use pheromones and powders to lure and paralyze bug types, and then grab them with vines. No energy-based moves needed!” As Taylor talks, she gestures enthusiastically, fingers lashing out in mimicry.

You smile. “Clever. Don't like bugs?”

Taylor grimaces. “No, they're too loud.” That's an odd reason. “Bulbasaur's name is Raid, if that tells you anything.”

“Nice. Got a Houndour, named her Angelica.” Taylor seemed to be waiting for something…. Shit, you were bad at this. “Taught her some simple stuff. Heel, follow, stay, that kind of thing.”

“Wow, already? I barely have Raid accepting touch.”

“Angelica's a puppy, really. Smart girl, wants a pack, and I'm it for now.” You reply with a shrug. “I get dogs.”

“Yeah, you really seem to.” Taylor murmurs. She waits for a second, obviously thinking. “I saw you blow up at Veder earlier.”

You scowl. “Little shit.”

She snickers. “I know, right? He always used to just watch me, the creep. Anyway, are you completely opposed to teaming up at all, or was it just him?”

What. Is she asking to be your Trainer Partner? The program wasn't mandatory, but using a buddy system only made sense, especially early on. It had been a long couple of years, and you hadn't cared enough to make friends, especially with most of the bitches in your year, so you hadn't given it much thought. On the one hand, getting someone that could watch your back wouldn't be terrible. A lot of Pokemon ran in packs, and it could be difficult to separate out individuals to battle and capture, or defend yourself from multiple Pokemon with only one of your own. On the other hand, you know literally nothing about this girl, and you can't tell if she can pull her weight. You don't need to partner with someone who could be a liability.

“Dunno.”

Taylor seems to deflate a little. “Oh.”

“It's not you. And I didn't say no.” What do you do? Stall for time. “Gotta think about it.”

“Can I give you my 'Pedia ID, so you can call me when you decide?”

That's right, the new model Electronic Pokemon Encyclepedia had video and voice chat functions. “Sure, I guess. I was going to get mine.”

The girl pulls out a scrap of paper and pen and scrawls out her ID number, and you tuck it in your pocket. “Well, talk to you later, I guess.”

You nod and turn to go, before looking back at her. “Why me?”

“You never joined in. Ignored them, didn't hang onto Emma's every word, even when they were aimed at you.” Her expression twisted. “It helped, knowing that someone could ignore them. Made it easier.”

Her time here had been really shitty, huh? “Fuck them. They're gonna die anyway. We might too.”

Taylor blanches. “W-well that's one way-”

“You gotta judge yourself for what you can do, and keep pushing yourself forward. Fuck the haters and bitches, and be a bitch right back.” You grin, intentionally giving it a feral edge. “Get it?”

Taylor smiles weakly. “Y-yeah. Thanks.”

“Good.” you nod. “I'll call you when I decide. Later.”

“Bye, Rachel.”

“Taylor.”

You hurry off, hoping to get to the Requisition office before it closes, and make it with five minutes to spare. The blonde secretary's face sours, and she practically shoves the reinforced backpack filled with supplies into your arms, before rushing your through your EPE registration. She pushes you out the door at 4:30 sharp, and you sling the pack onto your shoulder with a grumble. Time to go home and pack.

Unfortunately, you're interrupted on the way out the door by another classmate. This one you know, at least in passing. “Hey, Rachel. Got a moment?”

“Brian.” The dark-skinned boy wasn't bad to look at, but he had a bit of a reputation. Not as a womanizer or anything bad, but weird shit happened around him. Things going missing, little pranks, that kind of thing. The rumor mill couldn't quite pin it on him, though. You did know that his dad died a few months ago, though, and he was taking care of his younger sister.

“So, finally ready to go out into the world?”

“I guess.”

“Yeah, it's a bit of a big step.” At least this boy seemed to listen. And you could tell that he took care of himself. Those muscles weren't just for show, he had the look of a worker. “I was wondering if you were looking for a partner.”

“Don't know.” You grunt. “Suppose you are?”

Brian sighs. “Yeah. You seem like you know what you're doing.”

“I hope so.” You reply. “And you don't seem to be horning in on me like Greg.”

He winces. “I swear, that kid gives guys a bad name.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I know that you may be leery of partnering with a guy, and I can't blame you, but I'm going to have to jump right into bounty work as soon as I get a basic team together to back up my Sableye, and that would be a lot easier with someone who knows what she's doing.”

You raise your eyebrows. He's going straight into bounty captures? One of the primary income methods for Trainers is capturing wild Pokemon and sending them be either trained and released, sold to a breeder, or euthanized for resources. The pay is based on the number and type of captured Pokemon, but sometimes there are special bounties set for specific nuisances, as well as particularly dangerous or numerous Pokemon. It was dangerous work. “Why?”

“Aisha, my kid sister. Since Dad passed and Mom… well, Mom can't take care of her, so I have to make sure that she has a home.”

“Shelter's aren't an option?” Not that you'd recommend a shelter for anyone, but it was better than the streets.

Brian winced. “She's a bit of a terror. They'll kick her out in a week.”

“And if you die trying to make a buck she'll be alone.” You state, ignoring his glare.

There's a long silence. “That's why I want help.”

“I'll think about it.” You finally state. “Gotta get home and pack.”

Brian nods. “That's all I can ask.”

A few minutes later, you are making your way down the Boardwalk towards one of the reclaimed areas of Old Brockton. Wingull and Pidgey wheel overhead, looking for scraps to scavenge, but wary of the watchful eyes of the Boardwalk Guardians. You nod at the one nearest you as you walk by. His Manectric, sitting on its haunches beside the dark-skinned man, looks like it's in good shape and happy, if somewhat bored. The Guardian nods back, just as bored as his Pokemon, but keeps an eye on the birds overhead. Wingull weren't usually a problem, but if the Pidgey get it in their heads to go after a convenient snack… Well, the Guardians were well-paid for a reason.

You take a moment to lean on the rail overlooking the beach-front of the Bay itself, the Docks curving away to the south, with the ruins of Old Brockton and the Trainyard looming to the north. In front of you, beach-goers with umbrellas and grills enjoy the last few hours of sunlight offered by the clear May day. The particular section you were watching was a free-range zone, and Trainers had their Pokemon out of their Capsules, letting them run and play. You thought about letting Angelica join them, but decided against it. She wasn't trained enough yet, there was time for that in the future.

After another few minutes at a slow amble, you find yourself at the Archer's Bridge Children's Shelter. The three-story converted apartment building sat at the foot of the aforementioned bridge, which passed over a major highway and ended in the bad parts of Old Brockton, where Pokemon-infested buildings mouldered and decayed, and only the truly desperate lived. Still, the Children's shelter was maintained well and seemed adequately funded. You have lived here for two years, after the last shelter kicked you out, and it's been… Tolerable, you guess. Better than the last one, or the one before that, when that old Arcanine had bit a chunk out of caretaker for hassling you. At least Sherrel, the caretaker here, left you alone. And now you're going to have to leave. You sigh, and push the door open and enter the small lobby. Clean, but spartan, the small lobby had plain white walls, with a small play area for some of the younger kids tucked off to one side. Nobody was there now – even the semicircular desk where Sherrel usually sat, reading car magazines, was unoccupied. It was supper time… But you weren't hungry, surprisingly.

Your room was on the second floor. For the past year, as one of the oldest kids, you've had your own room, and there were a few things to show for it. Not personal things, really, just clothes, a plush brown rug you scavenged and washed until it was deemed serviceable. A few dog-training books, published before the Event. A poster with Ash Sykes, the current head of the PRT, posing with his Charizard. Dumping the contents of the reinforced Trainer backpack out on your bed, you do a quick inventory.

First of all was the bag, a heavily reinforced hiking backpack with adjustable padded straps and a reinforced frame. Strapped underneath was a one-person canvas tent, tightly bound and wrapped, with treated fabric strong enough to handle abuse and camping in the wild. A simple sleeping bag with attached inflatable pillow is set in a long side pocket. There are five PCS Capsules, as well as a PCS Transmit Station, a squat cylinder made of glass and metal with a folding solar panel built into the top that you could use to send Pokemon wirelessly to a local PCS Mainframe, tagged with your Trainer ID. It cannot receive incoming Pokemon, though, so you'd have to be careful about sending Pokemon back to the mainframe. There's also a belt with six special clips for capsules, three on each side.

You take a moment to boot up the Electronic Pokemon Encyclopedia and sync it to your current capsules, as well as the Transmit Station. The heavy-duty portable computer is the size of a hard-backed book and has a folding cover protecting the screen, as well as a digital camera on a swiveling mount to take field photos or video chat. You had heard rumors that newer models would have a touch screen, but for now, a small keyboard and trackball, set into the bottom third of the device.

Lastly, you had a couple of generic Med-cures, spray-on medicines that dramatically boosted Pokemon healing rates and helped with some common battle ailments, particularly poisoning and chemical-based paralysis. Definitely not for human use, though. A small medical kit with bandages round out your medical supplies. You pack up your essentials – toiletries and clothes, with the best dog-training book nestled on top, and the medical supplies in easily accessible side pockets, before sitting down on the bed.

You aren't really attached to this place. It's a place to sleep and keep your stuff, what little you have. But everything is about to change. And you're not quite sure what to do. Do you want to have people with you, when you go out into the Wilds? Some part of you says no, that people haven't ever done anything for you that you can't do for yourself, but another part whispers insistently that Pack is Important. And even if it doesn't work out, you won't be going out right away, you can skip out and go solo at any time.

Taylor is quiet, but seems smart. Her Bulbasaur is Plant/Poison, which is fairly common, but she seems to know what she can do with it. She's a bit out of shape, though, which is concerning. Brian, on the other hand, is going to be really pushing to make money, even if you're not quite ready to go, and you're not sure how his need to care for his sister will work. He mentioned a Sableye, which is an interesting Dark/Ghost type, and definitely looks like he knows how to take care of himself. The thought occurs that you may be able to get both of them to work with you, which may have some advantages… But you would have to convince both of them. Which may not work.


	2. Chapter 2

You nod to the Ranger guarding the gated entrance to the Trainyards. The caramel-skinned woman with a Doublade resting on her back nods back, her nose and mouth covered by a heavy bandana. You tugged a similar cloth up to cover your own nose in imitation, and run your hand over the Capsules clipped to your belt. The Trainyards are a tangled maze of rusting train cars, tracks, and scrap, loading cranes and dilapidated warehouses looming high overhead, with a pervasive veil of smog and noxious-smelling gas from the various Poison type Pokemon that make their home there. It's not deadly, but it's far from pleasant. Still, you're hunting Steel-types, and they don't mind the smell.

You pull out the ball where you're keeping Angelica as soon as the Ranger closes the gate behind you. A press of a button, and your Houndour appears in a flash of red light that is rapidly becoming familiar. Angelica immediately sits beside you, but her ears are flat, her nostrils flaring at the reek. “Ok, girl, we're going hunting.” Angelica barks once, her tail thumping, and then looks ahead, where a gap between two train cars looms. For all that it's mid-morning, the clouds of smog give a dim, sepia tone to the sunlight. Smiling, you scratch her behind the skull-plate, stand, and slowly walk into the Trainyard proper.

An hour later, you are frustrated, sweaty from the muggy air, and slightly nauseated from the stink in the air, which has managed to shift and change to bring new varieties of awful each time you manage to grow a little used to the previous scent. There has been little trace of any Pokemon so far. Angelica did find some spoor that was likely from a steel type of some kind, since it seemed to be full of rusty iron shavings, but even her nose was being impaired, and she wasn't able to track the originator of the pile of droppings further. The train cars you are walking between are rusted or chewed through, but the doors are closed, and you have no interest in disturbing any potential nests.

Suddenly, you hear a loud, discordant cry, like the shriek of an eagle played on a musical saw, complete with harsh metallic harmonics that set your teeth on edge. It's followed by the thud of iron on flesh, and the high pitched whine of a leaking balloon. You bolt ahead, Angelica at your side, and turn around the corner to see a pitched battle between two Pokemon. The first, a diminutive quadruped with stumpy peg legs and an oversized head nearly the size of its torso, is covered with metal plates that glint dully in the overcast light. The top of its back is no more than a foot tall, but it's nearly as wide, and obviously sturdily built. An Aron, one of the Pokemon you were most interested in capturing. The Steel/Rock Pokemon's beak-like mouth, which has a cutting edge like a metal shear at the bottom edge of its curved faceplate, was dripping dark purple blood.

That could only have come from the other combatant, a purple sphere with an oddly human-looking face, studded with protuberant vents that opened and closed with puffs of compressed gasses. That must be a Koffing. It's wobbling in mid-air, one of the vents on its side sheared off, blood like purple-black tar bubbling and fizzing. The mouth opens, and greenish gas jets out, washing over the Aron, who ignores it, and pushes the Poison-type Pokemon backwards.

In response, the Aron opens its mouth and _screams_ at its foe, the howl of tortured metal and grinding gears blasting out in an visible cone of vibrating air that catches the Koffing, which tumbles and crashes to the ground. Aron's stumpy legs can't move very far, but they allow it to scuttle surprisingly quickly as it darts towards the Koffing and takes another massive bite. The balloon-like Pokemon lets out a squeal of pain, but Aron caught its main body this time, hanging on like a bear-trap, and you can tell it's a death blow. Koffing lets out a weak wheeze, which flutters and sputters as it slowly deflates and the lights die in the all-too-human eyes. Shit. Aron begins to feed, shearing off chunks of flesh and tilting its head back to swallow in convulsive movements. Where the metal plates don't cover, you can see black leathery flesh, but it was armored, tough, and utterly vicious.

What do you do? You need another Pokemon, and Aron is a tough one that has the ability to be a great tank. On the other hand, it's not going to be an easy battle in any case. If you want to capture it, you'll need to wear it out without permanently injuring it, while still keeping it from hurting you or Angelica. You know that battling other Pokemon allows the victor to passively absorb some of the defeated Pokemon’s intrinsic energy, which lets it grow stronger. Enough battles and energy absorbed, and the Pokemon can then evolve into another form, but the process is interrupted by capturing the Pokemon. Maybe you should let Angelica beat it and get used to fighting? If you don't capture the Aron, do you want Angelica to just knock the Aron unconscious or otherwise render it incapable of fighting? Or do you want her to kill it? You don't have much time to choose...


	3. Chapter 3

You're in one of the training yards of the PRT complex, this one with a raked gravel floor and no greenery, for practicing Fire type moves. Angelica stands by your side, her pointed ears trembling with excitement. Sitting in the middle of the yard is a small canvas doll, squat with four stubby legs and a bulge for a head. “Angelica, Smokescreen!” You bark, pointing at the dummy Pokemon, and the puppy's eyes cross, before she coughs out a massive plume of billowing black smoke that clings to the ground, coiling around the doll. Your nose crinkles at the acrid smell of burnt metal and coal dust, but Angelica's control of the cloud has improved dramatically since she first hiccuped a cloud of smoke a couple of days ago and sent you into a coughing fit. The smog clings to the dummy Pokemon, which would cause most living creatures to have dramatically reduced visibility and breathing problems. That, and the other effect. “Good girl! Now, Fire!”

Angelica heaved, like she was throwing up, and spat a golf-ball sized fireball into the cloud, which exploded in a burst of heat that sends you stumbling a step backwards. Shit, you were too close that time. You gingerly feel at your eyebrows, and smile as you confirm their continued presence. “Good girl!” Angelica bounces up and down next to you, stub tail wagging furiously. Despite that, she's still by your side. Excellent. “Now, Pin!” The Houndour is off like a shot, pouncing at the smoldering doll and pinning it on its back, jaws around its throat. You know that she could – and had, in your initial training on the tactic earlier in the week - infuse Dark energy into her bite and shear through the tough material like a hot knife through butter, but a little work and she knew that she needed to capture, not kill, unless you told her. At least, you hoped so. It was working with the doll, at least.

“Angelica, Clear!” The Houndour leapt away from the doll instantly as you threw a mock Capsule – ok, a softball – at the training dummy, and bounded up beside you, making a quick lap around your legs before sitting promptly at your left. “Good girl!” Squatting down, you rub Angelica's ears and scratch around her skull-plate, before feeding her a small piece of Basculin jerky. “You did such a good job.” Angelica yips and licks your face excitedly, before looking back at the training toys in the yard. “Ok, fetch the...” You pause. Angelica vibrates. “Ball.” In seconds, the softball, slightly damp with drool, is lying at your feet. “And the doll.” The Houndour bolts back to the training doll and drags it back to you, dropping it at your feet with a doggy grin. You inspect it carefully. Although the tough fabric is a bit singed in places, there are no punctures, and the sticks inside to give it structure and the semblance of bones don't seem to be broken. “Angelica, you are such a good girl!” Much petting and scratching ensues. It's time to actually fight a living Pokemon.

Five minutes later, you walk out of the training yard, Angelica trotting at your side. Her Capsule is clipped to your belt within easy reach, but she's proved amenable enough to training that you hope that she'll be good outside her ball. Taking a circuitous route to the Trainer Dispatch office that avoids crowded walkways, you find that your hopes are well-founded. Angelica is curious, her nose twitching and ears perked up, but she stays by your side, even when other trainers are on the same path. The only close call is when a Trainer, a blonde, freckled, girl you don't recognize, walks by with a Fenniken curled around her shoulders like a living scarf. Angelica growls and lags a step behind, but a sharp whistle from you has her back by your side. The blonde trainer gives you a nod and a smirk, which you ignore as you walk past. Your Pokemon is a little on edge for the next couple of minutes, but when you reach the Dispatch office, a squat concrete building with a pair of heavy metal doors, she happily accepts another treat and presses the capture button on her Capsule with her nose when you hold it out to her, sending her inside the device in a flash of red light.

You step inside the cool office, eyes going to the large map of Brock Town on the back wall, behind a broad counter. A pair of Rangers in the short-sleeved tan uniforms that the professional Trainers wore when not out on patrol sat behind the counter, but your eyes were drawn to the far wall, where Brian and Taylor were talking. Well, Brian was talking, flipping through a pamphlet, and Taylor was nodding attentively, blushing slightly. Guess that went well. Shrugging, you ignore them, and head to the counter. The Ranger on the left, a bony middle-aged man with dark skin and close-cropped, greying hair looks up. “Can I help you?” You glance at his name tag. Pvt. T. Calvert. A bit old for a private…

“Yeah. Trainer Lindt, I'm on my 6-month prep period. Wanting to go out and break in my Starter.”

Calvert nods. “And you're looking for somewhere you can find some Pokemon to battle or capture.” He flips through a binder of reports for a couple of minutes. “Well, there's always the Woodland Hills area. It's a little ways outside of town, and has a good mix of Normal, Plant, Air, and Rock types. Apparently, herds of Stantler and Deerling are moving into the area at the moment, and there's been reports of Sudowoodo as well.” The Ranger glances up at you searchingly, before turning back to the binder. “The Trainyards are fairly popular with young trainers, due to the number of Steel types, particularly Magnemite and Aron, but there's been a surge of Grimer and Trubbish lately, so you may want to watch out if you go there.” He looks back at you. “Of course, there's Old Brockton. Lots of birds, anything from Murkrow to Fletchling, and I've even heard rumors of Rowlet nesting deeper in. You'll need to watch out for Ghost Types, though. That area hasn't been cleared, and Ghost Types are drawn to places where many human lives were lost.” Calvert closes the folder. “Did that help?”

“Yeah.” You grunt, deep in thought.

“I'm going to need to register your planned destination on file.” Calvert states. “So we know where to send the search parties.” One corner of his mouth twitches up in a sardonic smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

With the Aron currently occupied in its grisly meal, you kneel down beside Angelica, one hand resting on her exposed spinal ridge. “Ok, girl. You see it?” The pup turns and looks at you, then back to the Aron. You can feel a subsonic growl begin to rumble inside her chest. “Good girl. Listen:” Your mind races. Angelica needs to try and attack the Aron from mid-range, avoiding the sharp beak while wearing the heavy Pokemon down so you can capture it successfully. “Circle. Dodge. _Hurt_.” Angelica's growl becomes audible, and you can feel her start to bristle as she stares at the Aron, but she doesn't move. Good. You hope. “Angelica, Go!”

The Houndour leaps forward, teeth bared, and lunges at the Aron's exposed rear. A fraction of a second before she bites, you see Angelica's bared teeth go pitch black, before sinking into Aron's back right leg. The Steel-type Pokemon makes a noise like a harmonica being blown by a three-year-old, all discordant notes, and Angelica dodges away from its twisting lunge. As the Aron turns, it stumbles, and you can see that the stubby, metal-covered leg is twisted and dented. “Angelica, Fire!” you bellow, and the Houndour spits a fireball at the Aron, catching it in the face, where it explodes, a small whumph of igniting gas flaring orange and green as lingering fumes from the deceased Koffing ignite. When the fire clears, Aron's blue eyes, prominent in the circular cutouts of the silvery metal dome covering its head, are visibly burned and irritated. The Aron lets out a squeal, and lunges at Angelica, who dodges out of the way. Your Pokemon is circling her foe at a trot, well outside of lunging distance, forcing the Aron to keep turning to face her, stumbling on its wounded rear leg.

“Angelica, Smokescreen!” You order, and the dog coughs out a small cloud of pitch-black smoke, concealing the Aron, before darting around behind her foe on her own initiative and lunging into the cloud. There's a screech of teeth on metal, before the Aron howls, a whistling shriek of anger and pain. Then it _screams_, and a blast of sound punches through the smoke. Fortunately, the cone of concentrated sound misses you, but Angelica lets out a yip of pain and bolts out of the smoke, where you can see a glint of Aron's steel body. “Fire!” you order, but Angelica doesn't appear to hear you. “FIRE!” You scream, and Angelica visibly jerks, looking to you, then spits a fireball at the dissipating cloud of smoke. The smoke ignites in a powerful blast, and you hear a metallic thud and Aron's harmonica warble of agony.

Blinking away the flash of light from your Houndour's combo attack, you manage to see Aron lying on its side, its black underbelly sporting angry red burns. The edges of its metal plates are steaming where the hot metal touches its flesh. You scoop an empty Capsule from your belt, double-click the button with your thumb, and toss it underhand at the Aron. The metal ball rolls to a stop touching its belly, and the Pokemon is enveloped in red light, before slowly dissolving and flowing into the Capsule. A ring of red lights around the button blinks to light, cycling in sequence. You hold your breath. Once. Twice. After the third cycle, the lights flare green, before shutting off.

“Yes!” you whoop with a fist-pump. Angelica bounces, barking happily, before scooping up the Capsule in her mouth and depositing it at your feet. Going down on one knee, you make to scratch her ears, but she shies away from your touch with a whimper. “Shhhh, it's ok, girl.” You murmur, moving to pet her back and shoulders instead. With a closer inspection, you spot a small trickle of blood seeping out from inside Angelica's right ear. The Aron must have caught her with that sonic screech. She doesn't seem to have any other injuries, thank goodness. You fish out a general healing booster, and press the pneumatic injector to her neck, before pulling the trigger. Angelica yelps and jerks away, but you soothe her, before giving her a treat. After a few minutes, she no longer shies away when you touch her head.

It's getting close to noon, and you find a spot where you can sit comfortably, inside an open, unoccupied train car. Only one of the doors is open and the other is rusted shut, and looters or Pokemon have long since emptied the car, leaving it completely empty. Sitting leaning against the closed door where you can see outside through the open one, you pull out an energy bar and bottled water, pouring another bottle into a dish you set out for Angelica, with another dish of Poke-chow – the kind formulated for caniform Pokemon – set beside it. As you munch on your energy bar, you pull out the Electronic Pokemon Encyclopedia and flip over to your Team Registry, the app where it saves information on your Pokemon. You want to check on the Aron.

\-----------------------------------------

Species: Aron

Name:

Gender: Male

Type: Steel/Rock

Status: Injured – Moderate burns, ocular and auditory trauma, broken rear right leg.

\-----------------------------------------

Well, that's something. You follow the link to the Encyclopedia, trying to get more information on your new Pokemon.

\-----------------------------------------

Aron, the Iron Armor Pokemon.

Aron is, among the vast range of Pokemon that now roam our world, one of the more unusual varieties. Anatomically, the Pokemon is reptilian, with organically grown metal plates covering most of its muscular body. Unusually for most animalian Pokemon, rather than resembling a living animal on Pre-Event Earth, Aron most closely resembles a caricature of a Protoceratops, particularly the beak-like mouth, the oversized skull that protects the vulnerable neck, and the low-slung quadrupedal body. This resemblance is magnified after the Aron evolves to Lairon, and even further once it evolves to Aggron and develops that Pokemon's distinctive twin horns.

Juvenile Aron are born in large clutches of two-inch diameter eggs, anywhere from 50-100 at a time, laid by a nesting Aggron, and grow extremely quickly for the first two to three years of their lives, until they are about a foot tall at the shoulder, and eighteen inches end to end. Their growth rate then slows until a short period where they gorge in preparation for evolution, typically peaking when they are about 20 inches tall at the shoulder and three feet long. Aron have extremely dense bodies, with iron or steel armor covering the majority of their bodies in various thicknesses, and are quite strong, with metal wire reinforcing both muscle and bone. This does mean that they are not particularly agile, and when injured, can take longer to heal than other Pokemon.

Aron is an omnivore in the truest sense, in that it is capable and willing to eat practically any substance, although it requires a considerable amount of metal in its diet, particularly iron or steel. In addition, Aron's Steel typing gives it total immunity to both Poison-type moves and conventional poisons or toxins, although it does seem to be vulnerable to rapid oxidizers or other chemical reactions. Dissections have shown that Aron have metal-lined stomachs that rapidly break-down, digest, and metabolize a wide range of substances. The content of an Aron's diet can have a significant impact on its durability, and as they grow older and prepare to evolve, Aron will begin to seek out specific minerals that it lacks in its current composition.

Despite proportions that most would consider 'cute', particularly the oversized head and eyes, Aron tend to be vicious combatants, particularly early in life, gradually mellowing as they grow older and more resilient to damage. Their beaks are offset like industrial shears and razor-sharp, and one of the first abilities that most Aron develop is a sonic shriek that dazes and confuses foes. Older Aron will begin to use Rock elemental attacks, or use Steel energy to enhance their cutting or hitting power, particularly with bites or headbutts. They are slow and clumsy due to their short, thin legs, and are vulnerable to flanking and crippling attacks. The Rock typing blunts the typical Steel vulnerability to extreme heat and Fire-type moves, but makes it particularly vulnerable to water, both Water energy and drowning in conventional water sources.

Like many reptilian Pokemon, Aron are apathetic towards other members of the species, neither seeking out nor avoiding other Aron. They tend to consider other Pokemon to be prey or predators, and will aggressively attack any Pokemon they see, particularly at a young age. Fortunately, it is fairly easy to train Aron to accept other Pokemon as peers, with the exception of Water-types, which they fear instinctively and will either flee from or attack instantly. Aron gravitate towards areas where they can consume large amounts of metals easily, meaning that they can often be found in scrapyards or natural iron deposits.

\-----------------------------------------

Well, that was actually quite informative. You finish your energy bar and water, and clean up after Angelica. Technically, you've accomplished what you meant to by capturing a new Pokemon… but now you have to decide what to do. It shouldn't take too long to get out of the Trainyards, and that would mean that you can take Aron to the PRT to get him registered and healed up, ready to start training. Alternatively, you could explore further, and see what Pokemon you can find. Angelica is still in good shape, and did a great job, but she could use a bit more experience in battle. And maybe if you do find another good Pokemon, you could capture that too?

What should you do?


	5. Chapter 5

Pushing yourself to your feet, you gather up Angelica's bowls and pack them up, pulling your backpack onto your shoulders. “C'mon, girl, let's see what we can find.” You hop down from the train car, and start making your way north, deeper into the maze of dilapidated train cars and empty containers, memorizing landmarks and directions as you go. It would be pretty bad to get lost in this place.

The first indication that something's not right is the smell. The Trainyard has a foul stench at the best of times, but when you turn a corner and a wave of concentrated stink practically knocks you backwards, Angelica whimpering and covering her nose with her paws beside you, it's a pretty strong indicator that _something_ was nearby. Gagging from the overwhelming mixture of garbage, rotten meat, and bad eggs, you blink through mist and watery eyes, hoping to see what could possibly stink that bad. You're currently in a narrow corridor between two train cars, coming up on a four-way intersection. Squinting, it looks like there is some sort of large puddle in the middle of the intersection, about five or six feet across, full of nasty greyish fluid. You step a little closer. The puddle is rippling, concentric rings coming from the middle of puddle. Shit. “Angelica, Back!” You yell, scrambling backwards

The fluid begins to bubble and swell up, rising into a purple-grey dome of nasty, stinking ooze. A cavernous, dripping mouth opens in the slime, and yellowish, watery eyes bob to the surface and stare vacantly in your direction. It's too big for a Grimer, must be a Muk. Fuck! The Muk oozes its way out of the pit it dug in the intersection, slowly crawling towards you. “Angelica! FIRE!” The Houndour yipped, and spat a ball of fire at the encroaching Poison-type, sending a splatter of noxious flesh flying. The Muk keeps coming, though, not seeming to notice! “Fire!” Another fireball, this one landing in the Muk's open mouth before detonating, odd-colored flame licking up from spots and vents escaping gases made in the Pokemon's body. It gurgles oddly, but keeps coming. You're hurting it, but it doesn't even seem to notice.

“Angelica, keep it up!” Angelica keeps spitting fireballs, both of you backing up further and further as the Muk approaches inexorably. The flames keep going faster and faster, until Angelica pauses for a moment, her brow crinkling. She growls, a rumble deep in her chest the grows louder and louder, until she opens her mouth and roars! A torrent of flame pours out, covering the Muk, and for the first time you hear it making a noise, a high-pitched hiss that bubbles and pops. Angelica's attack peters out, but the Muk continues to burn, the flames flickering in blue and green, orange and yellow, crawling and spreading over the slimy form. The foul miasma around the creature begins to smell of burnt hair and scorched metal and other, less describable stinks. Is it smaller?

The Muk swells up, and closes its gaping mouth for a moment, before gagging out clouds of greenish gas. Angelica spits a ball of flame into its mouth unprompted, and the gas explodes, sending the entire top half of the Poison Pokemon flying in gooey splatters against the train cars on both sides. The remaining slime subsides, slowly spreading out and losing cohesion as it settles. “Good girl, Angelica.” You pant, scratching her head. “Good girl. You did it.” Angelica pants, leaning into your touch, before coughing, a wisp of smoke coming up.

You back up a few paces to a three-way intersection, to get away from the worst of the stink, and get Angelica some water. That…. Well, that was intense. Any other second or third stage Poison-type, and you would have just ran, but Grimer and Muk were known for having significant amounts of decomposing material, gradually being broken down for nutrients, and that means methane and other flammable material. Still disgusting, though. You take a sip from a water bottle, and look down at Angelica, who is sitting beside you, panting. She looks back up at you, her ears quirking. “Let's rest for a bit, Angelica. Then we'll find a different way to go.” She barks happily, before settling down on her belly, and you sprawl on the ground beside her. “That was something, huh?” You scratch Angelica's side between the slats of her rib armor, and her leg starts twitching. “But you did a good job, yes you did.” Smiling, you settle down, and just keep an eye out. Who knows, maybe something would come to you?

A few minutes later, you're ready to move out when Angelica perks up, looking down the side-path of the intersection. “What is it?” you whisper, and get to your feet. Angelica stands as well, and starts padding her way down the corridor, her ears perked and swiveling as she slowly advances. Soon, you hear it too, an odd electronic hum, just barely audible. Angelica bares her fangs, prowling along silently. It's times like this that you can really see the wolf hidden behind the puppy. You walk as quietly as you can, choosing each step carefully. The hum grows louder and louder, and you begin to hear variations, the tone of the hum is changing as the source – whatever it is – moves around.

The corridor between the train cars narrows, and ahead you can see an empty car, the door open, creating a dead end with a shelter inside the open car. The humming dopplers, and you see a metallic orb, a bit larger than a softball, flit across the opening to the other side of the car. Angelica snarls and freezes as the pitch of the hum changes again, and you see the orb moving back, this time moving more slowly. It's a Magnemite, the twin horse-shoe magnets that serve as its arms tilted down and clinging onto a sheet of rusty scrap metal. It doesn't seem to see you in the brief time it's exposed, and once it's back out of sight, your dog creeps forward again.

There's a clang as the sheet of metal drops, and then the Magnemite comes back across the open doorway. This time, however, it stops, and rotates towards the two of you. The single eye – an iris of white-enameled metal with blackness underneath – swivels to look at Angelica, then you, expanding and contracting inscrutably. “Angelica, Fire!” You bellow, and Angelica spits a ball of flame at the hovering Pokemon, which flits out of the way like a hummingbird, before darting forward, a crackle of static beginning to arc over the tips of the magnets and the pair of screws that act as the Pokemon's feet.

“Dodge!” You yelp, and match actions to words, diving out of the way, Angelica heading the other direction. The Magnemite hesitates in mid-air, before shuddering, and sending a wave of thin electric arcs directly at you!

You scream, only to be cut off as the electricity arcs over your body, your muscles twitching and spasming uncontrollably. It's all you can do to clench your mouth and keep from biting your tongue, but the surge of pain that crawls over your body as electricity arcs over your belt-buckle, the buttons on your cargo pants, even the metal underwire and hooks of your bra, burning you as they start to heat up. There's a furious bark, deep and hoarse, and an explosion of flame and heat, and the lightning ceases. You realize your eyes are closed, and you gingerly open them, to see Angelica standing, her back to you, flames visibly licking out of the corners of her mouth, even from this angle. You can't see the Magnemite anywhere for a moment, and then the Houndour turns, and you see the flames burning deep in her eyes.

She's holding the Magnemite in her mouth as she breathes out flame, and the Pokemon is already starting to glow red-hot, the magnets fluttering ineffectively. Angelica meets your eyes, and slowly starts to clamp down, teeth of shadow in a blast furnace maw, the Magnemite squealing in agony as it begins to distort from the crushing pressure. The delicate plates of the eye pop, and your Houndour's jaws snap shut, crushing the Pokemon like a soda can. The magnets fall off, hitting the ground with a soft thud, where they lay, smoking.

Angelica stares at you for a long moment, the flame in her throat guttering out, and the fire burning behind her eyes slowly dimming. She drops the battered metal corpse in front of you, before gingerly stepping around it, and starting to lick your face. You flinch instinctively, and Angelica recoils, before licking you again. Her tongue is hot, but not painful, and you smile despite yourself as you gradually get your muscles under control and stretch out of the fetal curl you found yourself in.

“Thanks, Angelica.” you croak. Everything hurts. You fish out a couple of Tylenol from your medical kit and dry-swallow them, before slowly rolling into a sitting position and probing at your injuries. Nothing serious, you think, you're just a little sore and raw from hot metal in uncomfortable locations. You sit and rest for a moment, before pulling yourself to your feet and stumbling towards the train car at the dead end of the corridor. That Magnemite was protecting something, and you were curious. Still, you let Angelica lead the way, no reason to be reckless, even after defeating the Pokemon. After all, there was no guarantee that was the only one.

Fortunately, the train car was empty, or at least you couldn't see any other Pokemon inside. You pull a heavy-duty flashlight from the side pocket of your backpack and shine it around the car. Scrap metal, cut from other train cars in long curls and twisting plates, lies in a tangled pile at one end of the car. At the other… You step closer, shining your light on the object on the other side. The base structure seems to be an old barbeque grill, one with a semicircular basin for charcoal, although the top cover is nowhere to be seen. Long, thin wires trail out of the basin, coiled in a complicated interlocking weave down to a rough piece of salvaged sheet metal resting on the bars that lock the legs of the grill in place. The light glints of the bare metal wires, and you notice that while they twist and tangle, they don't actually seem to touch each other. Stepping closer, you can see an even more complicated weave of wires, nestling together to create a hollowed out depression composed of thousands of wire tips. A depression shaped exactly like a Magnemite. Nestled in the depression is a wafer-thin shell, the barest beginnings of a central orb.

You pull out your Pokepedia, and open up the hard cover, before pulling up the video chat application. A press of a button, and you're calling the PRT. In moments, a blonde woman with a bored expression answers. “Thank you for calling the Pokemon Ranger Team Trainer Support Center, how may I assist you?” she drawls.

“I'm in the trainyards, and I found something really weird being guarded by a Magnemite.” You reply.

“Something weird.” The Ranger gives you a deadpan look. “Define weird.”

You bristle. “It's like a nest made of metal wire, with a Magnemite partially made inside it.”

The blonde woman sits up, her face getting closer to the camera. “And just a Magnemite was guarding it? Not a Magneton?”

Oh. Shit. “I… didn't see one?”

“Please hold, I'll have a Ranger out shortly.” The screen went blank, and you stared. Please hold? For how long? You walk out of the train car, still holding your Pokepedia, when there's a flash of bluish white light and a sound you can only describe as a _schlorp_. A tall man in a white lab coat appears in mid-air, before settling lightly to the ground in a nimbus of blue light. Beside him, an Alakazam sits cross-legged in mid-air, unblinking eyes watching you.

“Where is it?” The man asks, and you realize with a start that it's Professor Wallis. Angelica growls, and the Alakazam glances at her, eyes glowing. The Houndour twitches, and then sits at your side, staring at the Psychic Pokemon.

“Inside the train car.” you state awkwardly.

Professor Wallis brushes by you, pulling out a camera from one of his coat pockets. You tend to Angelica, and try to stretch out your aching muscles, for a few minutes while camera flashes and indistinct muttering comes from the train car. The professor finally comes out, mouth twitching excitedly, and strides over to you. “There was just a Magnemite? Where is it?”

“Angelica killed it.”

“Angeli- oh, the Houndour.” The professor's brow furrows. “You didn't capture it?”

“It was electrocuting me.” you reply softly. “Angelica protected me, killed it before I could speak.”

His expression softens, slightly. “You have a loyal Pokemon.”

You smile. “She's the best.”

Professor Wallis gives a short chuckle. “Starters often are.” The Alakazam nods. “In any case, I have to thank you. This is the only Magnemite Forge I have ever actually heard of that is easily portable. It could give us incredible insights into how Magnemite reproduce, maybe even let us breed them in lab conditions.” He smiles. “The PRT Research Corps owes you a favor. Come to our office, and we'll give you one of the Pokemon we have on hand, that would be better than them going unused.”

The Alakazam's eyes glow, and the professor glances at his Pokemon, before looking back to you. “You look tired, and Tesla says that there's a Gible coming this way. Would you like a ride home?”

You blink. Gible was a Dragon type, with a Ground secondary type, and the only Dragon type common to the Brock Town area. That's one that you would really like to capture… On the other hand, you're sore and exhausted, may need to apply burn cream in some places, and already have a promise of a Pokemon already captured.


	6. Chapter 6

You look down at Angelica, who glances up at you, panting. She's already been hurt once today, and learned some new tricks – but without any trained commands you can't be certain that she'd use them when you need them, and Gible would resist her most powerful abilities. No, it's time to go home. “I'll take the ride, thanks.”

Professor Wallis nods sharply. “You're welcome, Rachel.” Turning to his Pokemon, he gestures at the train car. “Tesla, take the Magnemite Forge to Lab C and return here.” The Alakazam nods slowly, before gesturing at the train car. The modified barbeque grill floats out, wrapped in a thin nimbus of faint blue light, coming to hover in front of the Psychic Pokemon. Tesla grabs the Forge, and then disappears in with a pop and a flash of light.

“You'll need to recall your Houndour. Dark-type Pokemon don't teleport easily.”

“Thanks.” You reply, and kneel to scratch Angelica behind the ears, before recalling her into her Capsule. “I've never teleported before, any tips?”

The professor's brow furrows slightly for a moment. “Don't panic. Tesla knows what he's doing. And don't hold your breath, it's instantaneous, holding your breath makes the anticipation worse.” His eyes flit over to you, before he smiles, slightly stiffly. “Relax, I've done this hundreds of times, and haven't lost a digit in years.”

You can't help but look at his hands, and Wallis smirks, wiggling all ten fingers. “When Tesla was just an Abra, we had to do an emergency teleport, and I left my left middle toe behind. He felt terrible about it, but considering that my entire foot was stuck in a Weepinbell and my boot was rapidly dissolving, I consider myself lucky to have only left a toe.”

There's another schlorp sound, and Tesla appears in front of you, his oversized mustache bobbing gently. The Alakazam's eyes flash blue, and he wags a finger at the professor. “I need to apologize for telling tales, apparently.” The professor drawls, and Tesla crosses his arms, before sharply turning his head to stare off into the distance. A moment later, there's a bugling cry, followed by a discordant metallic howl, like the harmonica cries that Aron made, writ large.

“Garchomp. And an Aggron, I believe.” Professor Wallis states coolly. “The Garchomp is hunting, almost certainly, and I believe that was a territorial warning from the Aggron.” The Alakazam's eyes flash blue yet again. “Yes. The Aggron is a nesting mother, so this could get rather ugly.” He grins. “Would you like to watch?”

“What?” You gasp, fear and excitement warring within your guts. Watching two Pokemon at the peak of evolution battle it out…. That's not something you were expecting to see so early in your career.

“Don't worry, Tesla's barriers will keep us safe, and we can teleport out at any time if necessary.” The professor grins, and it's more natural than any of his expressions so far. “Besides, when will you get a chance to see something like this again?”

He has a point...“Professor Wallis, I'd love to.” Tesla looks at you, and you have a momentary mental image of yourself sitting cross-legged on the ground beside the professor. You find yourself sitting, almost instinctively, with Professor Wallis mimicking you. The Alakazam floats behind you, and rests a cool, three-fingered hand on your shoulder. Glancing over at the professor, you see that the Alakazam is touching him as well, and then there's a weightless feeling as the three of you float into the air. Finally, there's a pop of displaced air, and the scenery changes abruptly. You're floating in mid-air, above the roof-less shell of a large brick warehouse, the concrete floor pitted and broken. In one corner, you can see an expansive garden of odd, stunted fruit-bearing trees, but your eyes are drawn to the glint of iron armor. There, in a far corner, is a large nest, easily five to six feet across, filled with spherical metal eggs. Standing in front of it, thick tail lashing, is an Aggron. Easily eight feet tall, covered in gleaming metal armor, with a pair of forward facing horns and hooked knife-like claws, the massive Steel-type Pokemon is a sight to behold. “Yes, definitely a female.” Professor Wallace muses. “The larger stature and shorter horns are the key there.”

“Where's the Garchomp, Professor?” You ask.

“Colin will do.” He replies absently, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Before he can answer, there's a geyser of soil and concrete chunks, and the Garchomp emerges from beneath the ground, hurtling at the Lairon like a missile. The dark blue landshark swings one arm at its foe, the single claw and long fin wreathed in bluish-purple dragon flame, and the Aggron tosses its head, parrying the blow with its twin horns, eyes closed. “Dragon-flame isn't terribly effective against steel-types, oddly enough.” Colin mutters. “Which is particularly odd, considering how it eats through nearly everything else, and Steel is vulnerable to conventional Fire attacks.”

The shark-like Pokemon leaps backwards, and you finally get a good look at it, a long, streamlined body optimized for cutting through earth, with powerful legs and wiry arms bearing long fin-shaped wings. The bulbous pods on either side of the head shadowed hungry yellow eyes. The Aggron roars and charges, each swing of hooked claws or toss of her horns sending glowing energy slashes flying at the dragon, which dodged as best it could, although several slashes drew blood. In response, Garchomp dives back into the earth, before the entire warehouse trembles, bricks falling off the walls. The floor visibly ripples under Aggron's feet, and she tumbles to the ground, rolling onto her side. “Ah. That's the end of it, then.”

You whip your head around to look at the professor. “What?”

Colin smiles wryly. “That was a localized earth tremor, infused with Ground energy, and Aggron is incredibly vulnerable to Ground-type damage.” He points. You follow his finger to the Pokemon lying on the ground, and see that it's sides are visibly vibrating, and blood is seeping out of its eyes, mouth, and ears. The Garchomp bursts out of the ground again, and in a single smooth movement, rips through the Aggron's throat with its teeth. It rears back and roars in triumph, before stooping down to rip away metal plates and begin to feed. “And thus life ends and continues. Time to go, Tesla.”

With a pop, the three of you disappear from the Trainyards and reappear in a pristine waiting room, with clean white walls and blue tile. You stumble to your feet, slightly disoriented, and spin to glare at the Alakazam. “A little more warning next time!” Tesla wags his finger in your face, and for a split second, the taste of soap coats your tongue, making you gag. Before you can retort, the Pokemon disappears in a flash of red light and returns to a capsule in Professor Wallis's hand. The capsule is distinctly smaller than commercial ones, you notice as he returns it to a pocket. 

“That's enough of that, Miss Lindt.” Professor Wallis states coldly. “It is not wise to antagonize Psychic Pokemon.”

You nod curtly, the bad taste in your mouth fading. Glancing around, you realize that you're in the PRT Clinic waiting room. “Thank you for the teleport, Professor. I appreciate it.”

“It was nothing. Thank you for reporting the Magnemite Forge, far too many trainers would have just left it. Who knows what knowledge has been lost, simply for lack of care or curiosity?” Colin's gaze goes distant for a moment, then snaps back to you. “You can pick up your new Pokemon here, I believe they have a few new captures that nobody wished to keep.”

“Thank you, sir.” You shake the professor's hand, and he gives you a curt nod.

“Until next time, Rachel.” Professor Wallis strides off down a hallway into a Staff Only portion of the Clinic, but you turn to the counter, where a cheerful-looking receptionist in bright pink scrubs and short, spiked hair dyed just as pink sits, flipping through a magazine.

“Can I check in my new Pokemon for healing?” You ask.

“Sure!” the receptionist chirps, and you place the Capsule holding Aron in a matching socket on the counter. A plastic dome covers the ball as the system links and downloads the Pokemon into the Clinic mainframe. “Ooh, looks like he took some dings. You just capture him?”

“Yeah, he's fresh out of the Trainyards.” You smile proudly. “My first capture.”

“Yeah, that first one is always a blast. I used to be a Trainer like you, until I took a Fearow to the knee.” The pink-haired tapped the side of her left calf, making a hollow sound. You're starting to get a complex from how many retired Trainers are missing limbs. “The name's Victoria Joye, but I go by Joy. I'll get your new Aron sent to our vets, and they should be able to get him on his feet in a couple of days. We'll send you a message once he's ready.”

She pushes herself to her feet with a wince, quickly suppressed. “So, Beardmeister said that you could pick a 'Mon out of our unclaimed stock?”

“Yes, he did. Can I get some more information on them?”

“Sure! Just a sec.” The retired Trainer flips through a few folders in a drawer, and pulls out four of them. “OK, we have four unclaimed Pokemon authorized for rookie Trainers on hand at the moment. The general idea is that if a Pokemon is captured and transmitted to the Clinic, but not claimed by a Trainer, it is put into a hold status after a week, and then sent to the main PRT Mainframe after a month or so. That gives us a handful of Pokemon to use for experiments, trading, to give to Trainers, use as starters, whatever we need, without having to file the paperwork to requisition them from the Mainframe. None of these have had any training, although they have been acclimatized to humans somewhat from their medical care.

She slides the folders over to you, and you flip the first one open. At the top is a picture of a Pokemon resembling a heavily armored lobster or crayfish, the shell colored fire-engine red on top, tan underneath. “That's a Corphish. It's a pure water type, and the species tends to be aggressive, specializing in melee hitting or crushing with their large claws, as well as bubble-based Water techniques. They're hunters by preference, but if you make yourself an easy source of food, they can be quite loyal.” Joy smirks. “I've also seen Trainers playing fetch with them down on the beach.”

The second folder has a photo of a Geodude, a Pokemon that every child learns to recognize, but this one had odd features. Where most Geodude were circular boulders with faces and muscular arms, this particular specimen had thick black eyebrows, as well as a mohawk comprised of black spikes of metal. “That's an electric variant of Geodude, quite rare, actually. Only about 1 in 50 Geodude are born with a Rock/Electric typing, rather than Rock/Ground. They don't last long in the rumbles, cause they're super vulnerable to Ground type attacks that a normal Geodude would just ignore, but in exchange, they don't have the extreme susceptibility to Plant and Water type attacks. You can actually find them in forests and plains a bit more often than rocky areas.” You look over the sheet with medical data. Geodude are technically genderless, adult Graveler reproducing by budding off smaller boulders, but tend to be ascribed male names due to their appearance and behavior. This particular one…

“Was this one really caught wrestling a Ludicolo?”

“I know, he's got a lot of spunk! I thought about adopting him myself!” Joy chirps.

You turn to the next packet. The photo shows a floating greenish blob with an odd twisting organ coming off one side, a pair of black eyes twisted into a smile. The whole Pokemon is covered in a thick green gel. “Solosis is a bit of an odd one. It's a Psychic type, and they tend to be very good with telekinesis and barrier techniques, without much skill at mental techniques. They take forever to evolve, but once they do, they go through their second stage extremely quickly before hitting their third stage, and then reproduce extremely rapidly. They tend to be cheerful, and enjoy playing minor pranks, although the level of maliciousness can vary.”

The final folder has a photo of a Treecko, although this one has orange hide, covered in tan and black specks, rather than the typical green coloration. It almost seems to be scowling, and the twig that most Treecko hold in their mouths is much thicker, almost resembling a blunt cigar. “It's a wonder that this one wasn't killed before it was captured, Treecko are usually reliant on their camouflage and climbing abilities to ambush prey and escape predators. Apparently, this one is far more agile than the species usually is, with speeds almost as high as a typical Sceptile. He's a tough little bugger, that's for sure, to have survived this far.” Joy's voice is oddly fond. You can tell that she really loves Pokemon, and likely misses being a Trainer. You can't really blame her.

“So, which will it be?”


	7. Chapter 7

For all that you spent just a handful of hours in the Trainyard, the tension of maintaining vigilance and watching out for hostile Pokemon or environmental hazards – not to mention the combat and the electrocution – left you completely bloody exhausted. You throw yourself, still fully clothed, onto the bed in your assigned PRT Trainer quarters and sigh in relief. With a flick of a button, Angelica pops out of her ball, and spins around quickly, obviously assessing her environment. “We're home, girl.” You whisper, and she visibly relaxes. It's surprising how much she understands. It's well known that Pokemon eventually learn some understanding of human speech, given time and exposure, but you and Angelica just click, in ways that you weren't expecting.

Maybe it was looking a gift horse in the mouth, but it did bother you, just a bit. You've had a Pokemon for just a couple of weeks, and already she's closer to you than any human friend you've ever had. True, you were an antisocial bitch – and self-aware enough to realize it – but it was still a little disconcerting. None of your classes or training had mentioned the bond that formed, at least not in so many words, but reading between the lines… Most of your teachers were not that much older than you, and either visibly scarred or recovering from injury, or they were somehow… Less, you guess. Diminished. A lot of the older adults were like that too, but in a different way. Everyone lost someone. It's only barely been two generations since the Event, and only then because the age of adulthood had been lowered to sixteen, to get more teenagers out and working. Maybe, if you pour enough of your time and love into an animal that understands and loves you back, only to send it to die, intentional or not… You can see how that could break someone. Hell, it almost broke you.

You feel your throat tighten, eyes burning. Angelica whimpers, and hops up on the bed to curl up next to your side. Absently scratching her ears, you let the tears flow. It was in the past. She was in the past. A lot of the time, you tried not to think about it, but it still hurts. She was an old Arcanine, and had been with the local children's shelter for years, dating back to before the Event, when she was just a little Saint Bernard therapy puppy. Something in her remembered, despite the massive changes in who she was and the world around her, and she stayed loyal, protecting her charges whenever she could. When you met her, you were… Damaged. Hurting. Lonely. The scarred, arthritic Arcanine took you under her frying-pan-sized paw and comforted you whenever your human caretakers didn't seem to understand.

And then the old matron passed away, and her assistants moved, and the new caretaker was a hateful, spiteful bitch, and didn't like that a six-year old girl growled at her when scolded.

A raised hand.

A protective Pokemon.

A flash of white teeth.

The result was inevitable. The loyal Arcanine was put down. Gently, true, but still, put down. There can be no mercy for a Pokemon that kills humans. You can understand that now, a little, but then… Well, all you had known was loss and betrayal. Bouncing between various shelters and orphanages had been rough, but you were tough, you could take it. And you made it.

Alone.

Until now. Angelica nuzzled your side, before crawling up to lick the tears off your cheek. It was nice. Familiar.

You smile. And eventually, you sleep.

It honestly doesn't take long to train Angelica to use her new attack on command, and practice shows that she's picking up a decent vocabulary of words she understands. She certainly knows the difference between “Fireball” and “Flamethrower”, and seems to be grasping the concept of controlling how much heat and power she puts into the ability. And so, you turn to your new Pokemon, Treecko and Aron. The latter might be a challenge. A lot of a challenge, actually. Some research on the Pokemon had shown a critical issue with the line – Aron were dumb as rocks. Dumber, actually, given how well Geodude and Nosepass, both literal rocks, could take to training. Once they evolved, the little steel Pokemon gained a fair amount of intelligence, and consistent evidence showed that wild Aggron would actually cultivate and landscape plantlife, but Aron did not take well to training without a lot of time and effort. Furthermore, in order to get any use out of Lairon or Aggron, you had to get Aron's loyalty before it evolved, otherwise it would likely be practically worthless on your Team.

You fully expected to be spending a fair amount of time on the thing, so the first step was to get Treecko under control. To that end, you and Angelica are currently in one of the enclosed training areas, one with some short cultivated trees and a large mesh canopy over the top of the field so that Pokemon couldn't easily escape. Treecko were well known for their ability to scale vertical surfaces effortlessly, much like the geckos that they were derived from, and Joy had noted that this particular one was faster than the first-stage Pokemon typically were.

Angelica was frolicking in the grass, enjoying herself, but at your whistle, she darts over to your side. “Ok, girl. I'm about to get out a new Pokemon. He's going to be scared, and may want to fight. We're gonna show him that we're the boss, but not hurt him. Think you can do that?” Angelica barks happily, tail wagging. You… Have no idea how much she actually understood, but sure, let's go. You grab Treecko's Capsule, press the button, and toss it out in the field.

The Treecko appears in a flash of red light, and immediately drops flat on his belly. His hide reminds you of autumn, a rich orange, with highlights of black and tan speckles that would break up his pattern in a different season. The lizard-like Pokemon's bright yellow eye meets yours, and he freezes. The grass is too short to conceal more than his belly, and you can see his chest dipping in and out with his breath as it slows, before finally stopping.

The transition from stillness to movement is startling, as the grass Pokemon goes from lying immobile in the grass to an orange blur that scales the sheer wall of the training area in a blink, before going back to immediate stillness once it encounters the wire mesh covering the area. The Pokemon’s eyes dart all over the yard, and you can practically see the calculation of odds and cover.

“I don't want to hurt you.” You state calmly.

The Treecko eyes you steadily. It's holding a short, thick twig in its mouth like a cigar, and you can see the end twitch as the lizard's jaw muscles twitch.

“You're tough. A survivor. Different, but it made you stronger.” Keep the same, calm tone. Don't worry about the words, except that for all you know, he can understand them. “I get that. I want to help you get stronger.”

The Treecko drops to the ground, landing lightly on its hind legs. One hand grabs the twig out of his mouth, and it starts to stroll towards you. Something's not right… Angelica steps in front of you. “Angelica, pin.” You mutter.

Your Houndour darts forward, but the Treecko pivots to the side out of the way of her charge like a matador, the twig glowing green and expanding in length until it's an appropriately sized baton for his small stature. There's no emotion in his yellow gaze as he circles to face Angelica as she comes from behind. “Smokescreen!” A billowing cloud of black smoke envelopes the pair of Pokemon. Angelica dives into the smoke, but there's a _Thwack_ and a yelp of pain, followed by angry growling and the sound of wood clattering off bone armor. With a final crunch, the cloud goes silent, save for Angelica's growls.

You hold your breath as the smoke slowly clears. Angelica has Treecko pinned, the splinters of its baton lying out of reach, with both her paws pinning his arms, teeth bared and glowing black with Dark energy. You squint. The Treecko is glowing, faintly, and you can see Angelica's panting growing more labored. Her teeth flicker. “Angelica! Flame, hold it in your mouth!” Please let this work…

Flames roar in your little hell-hound's mouth, glinting around shadowy fangs, much like when she destroyed that Magnemite, and the pinned Plant type flinches, its faint glow flickering out. “I don't want to hurt you.” You yell. “But I can, if I have to!” Yellow eyes flick to you, before closing. That will do, for starters. “Angelica, off!” Your Pokemon glances at you, and then gingerly steps off the prone Treecko, backing towards you, mouth still blazing. The Treecko slowly pushes itself to all fours, then stands, holding the broken halves of his baton in his hands. There's a flash of green light that makes you tense and Angelica growl and dribble flames, but when it subsides, the baton is just a stub again, Treecko slipping it back into his mouth. It gives you a brief nod, and Angelica snuffs out her flame with a cough.

“Welcome to the team, Churchill.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Gaius, NO.” You bark, and the Aron drops the barbell he had been chewing on to the ground of the Training area, turning to look at you with a dopey expression. Beside you, Angelica yawns, rearranging her chin on her paws as she watches the armored reptile. You stride over to Gaius, grunting as you pick up the heavy weight and examine it for damage. Yep, it had a few more of the Aron's distinctive beak marks on the shaft. Something tells you that you're just not going to be able to teach Aron to subdue things non-lethally. He was remarkably even-tempered, now that you have him accustomed to your presence, but the concept of restraint just didn't quite sink into his iron scull.

The past month had been both interesting and tedious. After deciding on Churchill as your new Treecko's name – for the stick that he constantly held in his mouth like a thick cigar – you had rapidly gotten him to the point where he would take what you considered basic commands, as well as use his special abilities. Growth was actually quite handy, as it allowed him to force plants that he was touching to grow rapidly, as well as somewhat control their shape. He typically used it as he had in your first encounter, where he had turned his chewing stick into a baton for hand-to-hand combat, but you had demonstrated a couple of other options with props and charades. Churchill was bright enough to take the advice and learn your commands, but you weren't quite sure that he was truly loyal to you, or whether he was just playing along until he could escape. Still, his ability to restrain or beat down enemy Pokemon and absorb their energy so they couldn't battle would be incredibly handy in the future.

Gaius, on the other hand… Well, the training guides were correct, he was just dense. It took a solid week of acclimatization to get him to the point where he would stop alternately fleeing or charging you, with Churchill draining his energy when he became aggressive until he finally learned that you would give him food – salvaged scrap metal and fruit, for the most part – when he was calm. After three weeks of training, you think you have him to the point where he will attack an enemy, as well as either Scream or Bite on command. Whether that will hold up in actual combat, you're not quite sure. You sigh, and set the barbell back down. “Gaius, Hold.” You order, and the Aron skitters over to the weight, before clamping his jaws around the shaft. After a couple of minutes, you give the counter order. “Gaius, release.” He stays still for a moment, and then spits out the metal weight. Bending down to check the metal, you cannot see any further damage.

“Good job!” A brief rummage in your cargo pocket finds a hardened steel ball bearing, which Gaius eagerly snaps out of the air. You grin. Maybe there was a little hope for the little bonehead yet.

A sudden knock at the steel gate of the training park nearly makes you jump, but you manage to restrain your reaction to simply turning to look at the intruder. To your surprise, it's Ethan Holland, the Ranger Instructor who had given you Angelica. “Hey, Lindt, Got a moment?”

“Yeah, I was just wrapping up for the day.” Not precisely true, you probably would have been here for another hour or so, but it was probably best to end Gaius's training on a high note. You grab his Capsule off your belt and return him with a flash of red light. “Come on in.”

The instructor unlatches the heavy gate and pushes his way in, closing and latching it behind him. “You really picked the ugly yard this time.” he comments idly. He's not wrong. This particular training yard has thick walls, a heavy steel gate, and a plain concrete floor that's textured just enough for grip. It's intended for training either large, strong Pokemon, or Pokemon like Aron that can easily dig or chew through earth and soil.

“Well, not everything in life can be pretty.” You retort with a grin. “You should know that by now.”

Ethan clutches his prosthetic clamp to his heart, eyes wide in mock pain. “Ooh! That one stung!” He grins. “Seems like you're doing well. Colin said that you were a competent Trainer.”

“Professor Wallis said that?”

“Yup! High praise, I know, but he hasn't quit cooking up Magnemite on the grill you gave him since he figured it out a couple of weeks ago.”

Huh. That was… That was pretty cool. One of the top PRT Researchers in the country thought you were competent. “I just found something weird and called it in, it's really not a big deal.”

“More than some do.” Ethan grins, and squats in front of Angelica, holding out a hand. The Houndour glances over at you, and ambles up to the Ranger to accept some head scratches. “This little girl is doing really well. She was a good pick.”

“Yeah, not sure what I would do without her.” You grin. Angelica was a good girl.

“So, I'm not just here for a social visit. You've been a Trainer for a little over six weeks now, and have a team of three Pokemon that you can at least somewhat control.” Ethan stands up and looks at you solemnly. “And that means that you can start pitching in a bit, at least in the Brock Town area.”

You nod. “Have to pull my weight.”

“Precisely. I'm not going to sugarcoat things, some of what we ask you to do can be dangerous. We don't want to push you too far, too fast, but we have to balance that with the constant need for warm bodies.” Ethan sighs. “And as young as you are, you seem to have your head on your shoulders. I'm going to send a list of available missions to your Pokepedia. Stew on them overnight, then report in to the PRT first thing in the morning with your choice.”

“I will. Any tips?”

“Don't bite off more than you can chew. Be aware of your team's abilities and weaknesses.” Ethan immediately replies. After a moment's thought, he continues. “Expect events to defy expectations, and be prepared to run like hell if they do.”

Well, that's all good general advice, so you'll take it. “Thank you, Instructor.”

“Well, I'll leave you to it.” Ethan ambles over to the gate, before turning back to you. “By the way, some of the missions will only be available to two trainers. If you choose one of those missions, another Trainer will be assigned to work with you randomly from our Rookie pool.”

“Can you include some information on who I may be working with?”

“I'll see what I can throw in for you.” Ethan replies. “See you around, kid.”

He closes the gate behind him, and you whistle for Angelica. “C'mon, girl, let's go.”

By the time you make your way to Trainer Housing and start a pack of instant noodles on the hotplate, the list of available missions had appeared on your EPE. After dumping in the seasoning packet, you start browsing through the options.


	9. Chapter 9

“So your dad works at the Docks?”

Nod.

In what universe are you the one trying to pull this girl out of her shell? Taylor Hebert had been walking beside you quietly for the past twenty minutes since you left the PRT Assignment Office, hunched in on herself and not really engaging. Did something happen? She was more talkative when you last spoke with her, although… You did kind of shove her off at Brian, and then didn't speak or call her for over a month. Wincing internally, you glance over at your fellow trainer. Much like you, she was wearing a plain cotton shirt, although hers was a dark blue, rather than your brown, and cargo pants, with a light jacket providing her skin at least a little protection. Better to be a little warm and uncomfortable in the summer than not have rudimentary protection from the elements at hand, especially when a fair number of Pokemon could influence the local weather. She has three occupied Capsules on her belt, although her Bulbasaur isn't walking beside her like Angelica is for you.

Damn it. If you fucked something else up for this girl…

“How's your Pokemon team going?” you probe. “Your Bulbasaur doing good?”

Taylor perks up a little. “Yeah. Raid's great, but she's not the best at walking for long distances. I'll get her out when we get closer.” She glances around the street. “It's only a few more minutes until we get to the Docks, and then I'll check in with Kurt to see where he's having trouble.”

“Not your dad?”

“He's…” Taylor hesitates. “We're not talking right now.”

Oh.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

“So, how is teaming up with Brian going?”

You've never actually seen someone's ears blush, but Taylor manages it. “Ok.” she squeaks, and you grin.

“That good, huh?”

“That… That's why I'm not talking to Dad. He thinks Brian's trouble.”

Well, considering he was a teenage boy, he's probably not wrong. “So the sister thing isn't bothering you?”

Taylor actually snickers. “Aisha's a hoot. Did you know that she revoked his naming privileges for his team after he named his Sableye Shade? She has her answering to Bedazzle, of all things.” She sobers. “Dad's just not happy that I'll be going out on bounty hunts with him soon.”

“Doesn't want you hurt.”

Taylor sighs. “I know.”

Time to change the subject, she's looking pretty glum. “So, you have a couple of other Pokemon?”

“Yeah. A Fletchinder named Bugbane and a Ralts named Arwen.”

What. “You caught a Fletchinder.”

Taylor looks at you oddly. “I did.”

“A second-stage Fire/Air Pokemon famous for being ludicrously fast and agile in the air.”

“Yes.”

“With a Bulbasaur.”

“Yes.”

That's actually damn impressive. “Ok, I have to know how you did that.”

“Well, I went into Old Brockton and staked out one of their known nesting areas. Bulbasaur can release pheromones to attract other Pokemon, as well as odorless soporific or paralytic spores. I backed off, and Raid burrowed into an old planter and started pumping out pheromones. It didn't take long before a Fletchinder flew in, and before he could find her, it was too late to escape. I captured him while he was unable to fly away.” As Taylor tells her story, she gradually loses the tension in her back and grows more enthusiastic. “Bugbane was a bit of a pain to train, honestly, but I've got him under control.”

“Yeah, everything I saw showed that trying to start training on a second-stage Pokemon is a lot harder than starting with a young one and evolving it.”

Your conversation brings you through the reclaimed areas of Brock Town, where dense modern apartment blocks, intended to provide cheap housing for dozens of families, sprung up in lots where sprawling neighborhoods of older houses had once stood. The newer buildings transition to older, reclaimed apartments and commercial buildings, and then, finally to the warehouses of the Docks. Here, the slowly growing flow of coastal traffic, supported by teams of Rangers with aquatic Pokemon and the growing understanding of the new state of ocean life was steadily boosting Brock Town's economy, and allowing trade from other port towns to the north and south.

“Yo, Taylor!” The security guard at the gated entrance to your destination calls as he sees your companion. “Good to see ya!”

“Good to see you too, Mike! Guard shack duty today?” Taylor asks, smiling.

“Thought I'd take a load off, been working too hard lately.” Mike was an older man, balding, and wrinkled, but his shoulders and arms bulged under the guard uniform, showing the results of decades of hard work. “Want me to give Danny a call, let him know you're here?”

Taylor stutters incoherently for a moment, but you stepped in. “We're here on business. Something about an issue in one of the newly opened loading bays?”

Mike glances over at you, down to Angelica at your side, then back at Taylor. “Well… If you're sure, Taylor.” She nods convulsively. “I'll page Lucas Walls and let him know you're coming. Head down to the end of row 5, you're looking for Bay 17.” He pushes a button, and the gate begins to slide open. “Tay.”

“Yeah?” Taylor's voice comes out as a croak.

“You know that he misses you, right?”

Your friend gives a short, sharp nod, but refuses to say anything else.

Mike shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and waves you through the gate. As you pass his booth, you catch something about “damn stubborn Heberts.”

Well, you aren't going to stick your nose into that, even if you want to shake the girl for pushing away family over stupid bullshit.

The Docks were bustling, with teams of Machoke and Machamp toting ludicrously sized crates at the direction of dockworkers who are nearly as burly, smaller Timburr and Gurdurr weaving through them toting heavy loads of construction material or rubbish as the reclamation of destroyed buildings continues. Taylor leads the way through the bustle, nodding and waving at the workers who greet her. Apparently, her dad is a big deal here. As you go further and further into the Docks, the crowd thins, until you're heading down an isolated row of old warehouses that are obviously being refurbished. The row is deserted, and it feels… wrong, in some indescribable way. At the end of the row is a warehouse that juts out onto the water of the bay, with yellow tape crossing the door. Beside the door, shifting uneasily on his feet, is a tall black man, his arms crossed in front of him. A Machoke leans against the wall of the warehouse behind him.

“Mr Walls?” You ask.

“Yeah. You the trainers that the PRT said they'd send?” The dockworker asks, uncrossing his arms. He glances between you and Taylor, then down to Angelica as she trots forward, sniffing.

“Yes. I'm Rachel Lindt, and this is Taylor Hebert. We understand you have a ghost problem?”

“We haven't seen one, but it seems to be the case. It's giving us all the willies, to be frank. Tools and supplies moved when you aren't looking, screams and screeches on the edge of hearing.” Lucas shudders. “Cold fingers on the back of your neck. The Pokemon won't even go inside the warehouse, now, and my guys aren't far behind.”

“It hasn't done anything outside this warehouse?” Taylor asks.

“Nope, that's the odd thing about it. Think it might be its territory. We haven't finished clearing this warehouse out, yet.” The man shrugs. “May be a nest in the back. I don't know much about Pokemon beyond Ahnuld.” The Machoke grins, showing a mouthful of flat, narrow teeth, and flexes slightly.

“Ghosts don't tend to have nests, per se.” Taylor muses, tapping her chin. “Have you noticed any unusual smells, or felt light-headed or queasy?”

“No, at least nothing worse than a dock-side warehouse that's been abandoned for thirty years.” Lucas grimaces. “We wore face masks for the first few weeks, before the issues started, but they were the first thing to vanish outright, rather than just get moved around.”

“And none of you have been injured, just scared and pestered?”

“Yeah. Well, Doug hit his head pretty badly from jumping while he was under a shelf, but other than that, it's been more obstructive than anything else.”

Angelica is still sniffing around, her nose to the ground, as she makes her way closer to the door. You can see her hackles starting to raise. “Taylor, you seem to have an idea.”

“It's likely not a Duskull, they tend to be more physical, they'd have already seen it, likely as it attacked.” the taller girl muses. “And Gastly or Haunter have distinctive smells.” She turned to Lucas. “Did you ever smell anything like formaldehyde, or other preservatives? Unusually sharp or bitter odors?”

“Nope.”

“Shuppet is out, it manifests as a possesed rag doll, and Litwick's line aren't pranksters…” She snaps her fingers. “Misdreavus.”

“Misdreavus?” You ask. You're not terribly familiar with ghost Pokemon – aside from research to see to see if Trevenant had ever manifested in the shape of dogs, which they did not – so you hadn't heard of the species before.

“Yep. They're pranksters, and obnoxious, but not actively malicious, most of the time. And if she was, they would already be dead.” Light glinted off Taylor's glasses. “Misdreavus feed on fear, at least from what researchers who have captured and bonded with them report, and can turn invisible and intangible at will.”

“Well, since you obviously know what you're dealing with, Ahnuld and I are out of here.” Lucas states quickly. “Good luck hunting.”

“Thanks for the information, Lucas.” Taylor replies. “We'll let you know how things go.”

You nod. “Stay safe, Lucas.”

As the dockworker hurries off, Taylor turns back to you. “So, cards on the table. Misdreavus is not biological, so Raid's spore and pheromone attacks aren't going to work. She can grow and control vines from her back, though, and I think that Plant energy is channeled through those, so she may be able to grab Misdreavus. The warehouse is big, but it sounds like it's not cleaned out, so I don't know how much good Bugbane will be in the tight quarters.”

“You said you had a Ralts?”

Taylor grimaces. “Arwen. She's my newest, and while she's a sweetie, right now she's pretty much limited to teleporting herself and creating flashing lights and colors to confuse her opponents and make them hurt themselves. I don't think she likes fighting very much, I haven't been able to convince her to do much damage.”. She pauses, slumping. "And she's actually vulnerable to Ghosts, since she's a Psychic-type. I wish I had remembered that before."

“Well, you did in time, so no harm done. Angelica is Dark-type, but right now all she can do is channel Dark energy into her fangs. That may change, the last time she was pressed in combat she figured out something new.” Your Houndour looks up when you say her name, but returns her attention to the door. “Churchill, my Treecko, is fast, but mostly attacks with a stick he keeps – don't ask me why, that's the way I got him. He can absorb energy, though, which may be useful. And my Aron, Gaius...” You pause, trying to think of a way to phrase it. “Gaius is brutal, but I don't think he's a good choice here. He's not very agile, and he's not bright enough to trap a ghost.”


	10. Chapter 10

You tear down the caution tape blocking off the access door for the warehouse and open it, looking inside briefly. Fortunately, there is a large open area, although shelves with random boxes of junk line both walls, with rusty shipping crates and other containers stacked up towards the back of the warehouse, obscuring the far end. Closing the door, you turn to your partner. “We don't want to go in there unprepared, if Misdreavus thinks we're hunting it, it could get nasty, right?”

Taylor nods. “You want to lure it to the open area?”

“Yeah. Then we could surround it and go for the capture?”

“I guess…”

“We could have Raid, Churchill, Bugbane, and Angelica try to corral it, once it appears.”

Taylor shakes her head. “I'm fairly certain that I'd read that many Ghost Pokemon can sense the presence of other Pokemon. They'd have to stay in their capsules.” 

You frown. “But if she shows up, it will take a few seconds before we can get our Pokemon out.” You glance down at Angelica, who is sitting at your side, staring at the warehouse. 

“How are we luring her in?” Taylor asks.

Ah, that was another thing. Misdreavus fed on fear, but having the trainers be the bait was a bad idea. Some half-remembered fact tickled at the back of your mind. “Aren't Ralts empaths? Do you think she could broadcast fear to lure out the Ghost?”

Your friend grimaces, resting a hand on one of her Capsules. “I think she might. I'd have to figure out how to tell her, I don't think she understands speech yet, just emotional states.”

“Oh.”

“It's not a bad idea, but I don't know how well it would work...”Taylor drums her fingers on the Capsule at her waist. “Assuming that Misdreavus takes the bait, what's the plan? Surround and trap her? Raid's vines should be good for that.”

“That's what I was thinking. Herd the ghost into Raid's range with Churchill, Angelica, and Bugbane, and then use Angelica's Dark-type attacks to take her down so we can capture her.”

“Ok, sounds good.” Taylor makes a face. “If I can convince Arwen.”

That… Doesn't go particularly well. Taylor managed to communicate her request with a combination of speech, charades, emotions, and an image of a Misdreavus pulled up on her Pokepedia, but the diminutive Pokemon with a lime green bowl cut adamantly refused to play bait for the trap, broadcasting a mental scream of {NEGATION}, before triggering her ball with telekinesis and vanishing in a flash of red light.

Which leaves you and Taylor, standing awkwardly in front of the warehouse. “Well, that's out.”

“The plan will still work.” Taylor insists. “We'll just need to be the bait. We know that she goes for humans, anyway.”

You groan, but push the door open and lead the way inside the warehouse, Angelica trotting beside you. Finding a battered crate that looks like it should hold your weight, you sit down, holding Churchill's Capsule in one hand, and settle in to wait.

It's said that no plan survives contact with the enemy. That holds doubly true if the enemy steadfastly refuses to show up. Two hours later, you're still sitting on the same goddamn crate, idly scratching Angelica's ears, half zoned-out and ready to doze off. Taylor is reading something on her Pokepedia, sitting cross-legged on another crate. You feel your eyes start to drift close, and yawn. You're so damn tired… Taylor's head is nodding, and you're starting to wonder if she's as tired as you… As your eyes shut, you hear a faint giggling. 

An instant later, Angelica barks angrily, and you wake up with a jolt, face to face with a pair of enormous yellow and red eyes, set in an etherial gray face. You yelp and scramble backwards. “Angelica! Bite!”

As Angelica lunges at the Misdreavus – who gleefully bobs up our of her reach – you can hear the sound of a Capsule opening, and Taylor's voice. “Raid, capture her with your vines!” A quartet of dark green vines shoot out from behind the ghost, curling around her and clenching tight, only to sink through the ghost's translucent gray flesh like a knife pushed through gelatin. 

Grabbing Churchill's capsule, you release him, and as soon as the red light becomes red hide, you point at the ghost. “Churchill, tackle her and absorb her energy!” The Treecko smirks around his twig cigar, and lunges at the Misdreavus in a blur, his body beginning to glow with faint green light an instant before he hits her, wrapping his arms and legs around her head. You snarl victoriously. He can grab her, since he's actively applying Plant-type energy. “Angelica, hurt her and pin her down!” Your Houndour growls, and leaps up onto a crate, before lunging at the ghost Pokemon, her teeth going pitch black. She sinks her fangs into the Misdreavous's tentacled hair, and the Pokemon screams, a howling shriek of agony that has your hands going over your ears.

Still, that had the desired effect. You grab an empty Capsule, thumb the button, and hurl the ball at the ghost. She disappears in a flare of red light, and you grit your teeth as you watch the lights cycle around the button of the capsule. As the last cycle completes and the light flashes green, you whoop in glee. “HAHA, Yes!” Scooping up the ball, you hook it on your belt, and beam at Taylor, who is grinning in relief. Angelica bounces around to you, and you kneel to pet her, tossing a dried berry to Churchill, who snaps it out of the air.

“That was a little intense.” she comments walking over to you. 

“Yeah. I think she used some kind of hypnosis attack to put us to sleep. Maybe to wake us up with a jumpscare?”

Taylor shrugs. “That's as good an idea as any. You want to look around in here?”

“Why? We caught the Pokemon.”

She shakes her head. “No, not for more Pokemon. I read a theory, and I wanted to follow up on it.”

“Sure.” 

The back half of the warehouse is a tangle of different sizes of shipping containers, crates, wooden boxes, and assorted debris, all heaped in random piles of decaying junk. You can see where some work has been done to start sorting out the salvageable goods, but it's still a mess. It winds up being easier to send Churchill ahead to scout out paths and look for interesting things, but eventually, you find what Taylor was looking for.

The body was half-crushed under a fallen shipping container, and reduced to bones and dried tissue by time. Only the upper half of the unfortunate soul is accessible, with stained nailmarks where fingers had dragged against concrete, over and over again. Taylor kneels by the skeleton, and pokes with a pencil at the long, time-bleached, hair that remained. “Some people have speculated that some Ghosts are drawn to places of death, while others are actually the spirits of those who have passed, transformed into Pokemon.” She states softly. “If the Misdreavus used to be the woman lying here, before she was killed...” 

“She was still hurting people. Hunting them for food.” You reply. “She needed to be stopped, regardless of whether she used to be a human.”

“Yeah.” Taylor sighs, straightening up, but still staring at the bones lying at her feet. “We need to get the body reported.”

You put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We will. Time to go.”

Reporting a decades-old corpse takes surprisingly little paperwork, and it's only a couple of hours before you find yourself at the PRT Assignment desk. Today's receptionist, a slender brunette with an eyepatch and a matching set of claw-shaped scars on her left cheek, glances up from cleaning her nails as you enter. “Back already?”

“Yeah, we captured the Misdreavus that was causing the issues in the warehouse.” You reply, setting the ball on the desk. 

“Ok, so you can either keep it, or you can turn it in for Trade Credit.” The receptionist leans back in her chair.

“Trade Credit?” Taylor asks.

“Not all Pokemon are created equal, so when a Trainer turns in Pokemon, either in person or remotely, they get counted as credits based on the rarity and demand for the Pokemon they turn in. You can then use Trade Credit to essentially purchase new Pokemon from our available stock.” The receptionist punches a few keys on her computer. “Misdreavus is currently worth 20 Trade Credit, they're rare, but in low demand. So, what'll it be?”


	11. Chapter 11

“Taylor, unless you want her, I'm thinking we should just turn in the Misdreavus for Trade Credit and split the balance.” You turn to the eye-patched receptionist. “Would that be all right?” She nods, and you look back at your friend. “Would that work for you, Taylor?”

“Yeah, I don't need her. Still have some work I want to do with my Pokemon.” Taylor looks at you for a long moment. “You can have the credit, though, I didn't really do much.”

“You figured out what kind of Ghost we were dealing with within a couple of minutes, and Raid helped us capture it.” You argue. “I'll split it with you, ten Credits each.”

“No, I barely did anything, and couldn't get Arwen to help.” Taylor insisted. “You get fifteen Credits, I'll take five, but no more.”

You rub your face with one hand. If she was going to insist that you get more…. “Fine, I guess, but I think you're being too modest.” Turning back to the receptionist, who is watching with an expression of mild amusement, you set the Capsule containing Misdreavus in the recessed transfer port set into the reception desk. “I'll bank fifteen credits, and Taylor will take the other five. I don't want another Pokemon at the moment, I need to pay more attention to the ones I have right now.”

“Ok, I have those credits saved to your accounts. If you want to use them, just come here and we'll give you an updated catalog.” The receptionist taps a few keys, and then looks back at you. “You can also now submit fresh captures using your Transmit Station, and the Trade Credit be applied directly to your account. Our on-staff trainers will get them broken in and ready to train, so you don't have to worry about people getting untrained Pokemon. Unfortunately, your Transmit Station is only able to send Pokemon, so you have to come back here to pick up new trades.”

“Good to know, thanks.” you reply, and take the empty Capsule. “I'll be back in a couple of weeks for a new mission, I think. My team needs a little more work before I take anything harder than what we just did.”

“Yeah, too many young trainers burn out or get in over their head.” the receptionist drawls. “I'm on mandatory medical leave at the moment, and appreciating every minute of it.” Something dark and hurt flits across her expression, before she shakes her head and refocuses on you. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope. Thank you...”

“Crystal.” The brunette smiles. “I'll see you around, Rachel.”

“Enjoy your desk time.” You leave the office, idly noting that Taylor has already left, your mind already racing with plans for training your team.

“Churchill, Volley!” At your command, the red-skinned Treecko puts his staff, shaped into a blowgun for the moment, to his mouth and shoots a cluster of small wooden bullets, each wreathed in green Plant-type energy, downrange at Gaius, who skitters out of the way, avoiding most of the projectiles. The only bullet to hit glances off Gaius's steel-armored back, leaving a slight score, but otherwise not injuring him.

“Gaius, Iron Skull!” The Aron turns toward Churchill, who braces himself, and lumbers into a charge, as fast as his stumpy legs can carry him, his metal head gleaming brightly. Churchill dodges like a matador, and Gaius blows past him, hitting the concrete wall of the training yard with a heavy whump that shakes dust off the wall. He backs away, shaking his head, but you smile at the small crater left behind. Gaius is finally figuring out restraint – just a week ago you had to help repair a similar wall when he practically blew through it. Churchill raises his blowgun to his mouth again, but you raise a hand. “Ok, all done! Stop!”

Your Pokemon both stand down, Churchill's pipe shrinking to the cigar-like stump in a flash of green light, and Gaius trots over to you, looking up at your pocket. You laugh, and pull out a stainless steel marble out of a pocket and toss it to him, before tearing off a bit of a nut and berry bar for Churchill. By your side, Angelica whines, and you kneel down and scratch at her ears. She's visibly grown over the past month, filling out from puppy-like proportions to something closer to a medium-sized dog. “If you want a treat, you gotta show me your new trick.”

Angelica quirks her ears, and you point to a large quadrupedal canvas training doll. “Angelica, Crunch it!” Your Houndour snarls, and lunges at the doll, her teeth flashing black. In front of her, a massive pair of black jaws, easily three or four times larger than your dog's mouth, appeared in midair and easily bites through the tough canvas, sending stuffing and wooden bones everywhere. The jaws disappear, and Angelica bounces back to you, tail wagging furiously. You laugh, and toss her some fish jerky. “Attagirl.”

It's been four weeks since your last mission, and you're far happier with the state of your team. Gaius is still dumb, but knows basic commands, and will obey them flawlessly. Churchill picked up the attack most plant-type trainers called Bullet Seed easily, and was flexible enough that he could vary the effects, ranging from single, precisely aimed shots to volleys of multiple shots. He seems to trust you a bit more, now, and didn't seem as tense around you as the first few weeks of his training. Angelica, as always, is a good girl, and just an absolute joy to train and play with. You even managed to get them working together well, and with Gaius acting in defense, Churchill using his agility and ranged attacks, and Angelica controlling the battlefield with her smokescreen, ranged fire attacks, and nasty bites, you had a lot of confidence that you could handle anything reasonable you encountered – or at least survive long enough to run if you got in over your head.

With that in mind… Well, it's July, and you had received a pointed message – although not a visit – from Ethan asking if you were staying busy. It was time to take another mission, and you had just the one in mind. Returning Churchill and Gaius to their capsules, you whistle to Angelica and leave the training yard, quickly dropping by your assigned room to pick up your backpack and camping supplies, before making your way to the PRT Office.

“Rachel! Good to see you.” Ethan Holland exclaims as soon as you walk in the door. You manage to suppress your internal wince. It may be a good idea to be more proactive on taking missions… “So, you indicated that there was a specific task that you wanted to take care of?”

“Yes, sir.” You reply. “I understand that there have been reports of some Lycanroc and Rockruff causing trouble and riling things up in the northern portions of Old Brockton?”

“Yup. Looking to get another doggie?”

You blush, just a bit. “Maybe. Maybe I thought I could get them taken care of and out of the way.”

Ethan levels a look at you. “Don't let your success with Angelica go to your head. You've done well with her, no mistake, but Lycanroc are more like wild wolves than dogs, and they're notoriously ornery.”

“I understand. Still, I've done a lot of research, and I definitely don't want a pack of Rock-type wolves driving all the birds into inhabited areas.”

The instructor smirks. “That's the right idea. We have to live with wild Pokemon, at least for now, and the only reason that Brock Town can survive is that the wild areas around it stay balanced, so that the Pokemon aren't being pressured to expand and push us out.” Ethan turns to the other person in the room, a blonde girl about your age. She's wearing practical clothes, but obviously of slightly higher quality than your sturdy, but well-worn gear, and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She smiles at you, but there's a calculating look in her eye that you recognize from all the clique-climbing bitches in school. “This is Sarah Livsey. She'll be working with you. We don't know exactly where the Lycanroc are lairing, so you're going to have to camp out in Old Brockton, and that means you need someone to watch your back.”

Sarah steps forward and sticks out her hand. “It's good to meet you, Rachel. I think we'll work very well together.”

You shake her hand firmly. “Hope you're ready for a couple of rough nights.”

She smirks. “Bring it on.”

Ethan clears his throat. “As much as I enjoy watching teenage girls trying to figure out who's the queen bitch, you do need a little more information.” He pulls out a cloth bag, and opens it to show a set of extra capsules. “I know you both still have three free Capsules each, but sometimes you don't have time to transmit Pokemon back before running out, so you've got four extra each to keep on you. These are loaners, you'll need to give them back after this mission. Our best scouting reports show that there are at least two Lycanroc, potentially more, with several Rockruff, most likely their pups. You'll also have to deal with the other Pokemon in the area.” He glances over to Sarah. “Please try not to make too much of a fuss in the area, we don't need to make anything worse.”

Sarah smiled coyly. “I make no promises.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Ethan groans. “I know, and that's why if you do dumb shit that gets you in over your head, again, it's going on your permanent record. If you survive.”

“Hey, I had no idea that nesting Swampert was there, I was just trying to catch a Mudkip.” The blonde girl protested.

“Exactly. Do your research, think things through, and be careful.” The instructor shakes his head. “Rachel, please be careful out there?” He looks tired. Really tired, actually. Did something happen?

“I will.” You state firmly, and Sarah nods in confirmation.

“Good. I'll leave you girls to it.” Ethan walks back into the back of the office, before poking his head back out. “And don't die!”

“Not on the agenda.” Sarah mutters.

You wait a moment to see if he is coming back, then turn to your new partner. “So, I need to know about your team, and then we need to figure out a strategy.”

Sarah grins. “No prob! I have three Pokemon. My starter is a cute little Fennekin, and her name is Tattletale. She's a clever little girl, and likes finding things to get into. I also have a Lotad named Lily and a Shinx named Sparkitty.”

You go over your team with her, and over the next few minutes, you pry out some more information about her Pokemon. Her Shinx is fast, light and can build up and release a significant electrical charge, but doesn't have a ranged electric attack, and is light enough that its non-electric attacks don't have much impact. Lily can blow a stream of exploding water bubbles, as well as absorb energy like Churchill, but it's slow and lazy. Finally, Tattletale is fast, has little fireball attacks much like Angelica's first fireballs, and is extremely skilled at predicting and dodging incoming attacks. Apparently, she'll pick up Psychic type moves, and eventually a Psychic type on her final evolution, but she's not quite there yet. Something gives you the feeling that Sarah isn't quite as diligent about training as you are, but she's not bad at it.

Eventually, you decide to spend the night in Trainer housing, and then start out in Old Brockton in the early morning. You had managed to snag a list of known Pokemon in the area, although you were assured that it was not fully comprehensive. You were almost certain to encounter some Pokemon, but how many depended on how long it took you to find the Lycanroc pack.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

Your feet pound the cracked pavement, eyes forward, darting, looking for a route through the abandoned husks of cars and debris, Angelica running by your side, every third step a limp as she cradles her left front paw. You can hear Sarah panting by your side, a yip from Tattletale, desperately clinging to her trainer's shoulder, as a female Unfezant bursts out of cover, leading a lone Pidove chick, only for the pair of wild Pokemon to ignore you and flee from what's coming after you.

_Thud.Thud.Thud_.

It's speeding up. _Shit_. You can't keep up this pace for long. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sarah turning her head. “Don't look, keep running!” you bellow, and try to accelerate. There's a hollow roar, like an avalanche backed by the screams of the damned, and with a rumble, a forest of rock spires burst up out of the pavement ahead of you, cutting off the main street. There's a gap between two of the short office buildings that fill this portion of Old Brockton. “Turn down the alley!” you scream, and match action to words, your boots skidding on the pavement as you turn – and stop. The buildings had partially collapsed, and the back half of the alley is a tangle of concrete, rusted steel, and glass.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

“It drove us here.” Sarah whispers, her voice shaking in terror. “It wants us scared.”

“Ghosts thrive on fear.” You grunt, trying to suppress the pounding of your heart, Angelica is panting, obviously winded, but still by your side. “I don't see why Golurk would be any different.”

You pull Churchill's ball out and release him. “Get out Lily, she's got a chance.”

Sarah nods weakly, and summons her Lotad. The squat Pokemon is tiny, the broad lily-pad that forms the top of its head little more than a foot across.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

“It's taunting us.” You snarl. “And it's going to pay for it. Angelica!” Your Houndour turns to you, tongue lolling, but her eyes blaze with an inner fire. “Go for its legs. Crunch them, slow it down.” You turn to Churchill. “Up the wall, and Snipe it. Go for the eyes.” The Treecko expands his stick into a long blowgun, and skitters up the wall in a flash, until he's resting sideways twenty feet up.

“Lily, bubbles, all across the entrance.” Sarah chips in, and the Lotad froths at the mouth, sending a stream of white foam to coat the floor of the alleyway. Angelica whimpers, and the blonde winces. “Oops, forgot.”

_THUD._

_THUD._

_THUD._

“Too late, here it comes!” The Golurk casts a massive shadow in the entrance of the narrow alley, its spiked rocky shoulders, bound with straps of metal, nearly scraping the brickwork on either side. Standing at nearly ten feet tall, and easily six feet wide, the massive possessed statues eyes glowed a harsh yellow as it strides slowly closer. This close, you can feel the tremors that it makes each time a massive foot hits the ground. You grit your teeth. The Ghost-type Pokemon ignores the white foam coating the pavement in front of it, the glowing eyes going from you, to Sarah, then back to you. It opens a crevice-like mouth and roars, and stars appear in your vision from the sheer impact of the sound. Another step, and a heavy stone foot lands on the carpet of bubbles. The entire field goes off like a cascade of over-pressurized water balloons, and the Golurk stumbles backwards, portions of its earthen hide visibly eroded from the blast.

Lily leaps into the air, far higher than you would have expected such a tiny Pokemon to be able to jump, and makes a high-pitched shriek, a faint purple wave exploding from her bill-like mouth that hits Golurk in the face, making it jump slightly. “What was that?” Sarah yelps

“Churchill, go for the eyes!” You bellow, ignoring her. He raises his pipe to his mouth and shoots a large wooden slug, wreathed in a lime-green glow, directly into the Golurk's left eye, where it lodges, slowly beginning to expand in a tangle of roots. The giant Pokemon is angry and off-balance, time to make your move. “Angelica, Crunch the leg!” Your Houndour lunges, enormous black jaws appearing in mid bite, shearing down on the Golurk's left leg, leaving deep gouges that weep purple energy. Churchill takes another shot, and blinds your foe, but it takes one massive swing at the building he's clinging to. The wall cracks and crumbles from the impact of the massive fist, and the Treecko leaps free. Taking advantage of it's distraction, Angelica goes for the Golurk's legs, scoring more deep gouges in its calf.

Golurk roars again, causing your Pokemon to recoil, Angelica whimpering from the impact to her sensitive hearing. In a move that seems to play out in slow motion, the Golurk raises both arms and slams them into the pavement, sending out a visible ripple at the impact that picks up your Houndour and throws her into the air. She lands on her side with a wet thud, and lays still.

“ANGELICA!” The scream rips its way out of your lips.

No motion. The Golurk's head, still blinded by woody growths, turns slowly to face you. It takes one slow step forward, then another. A wooden bullet bounces off its chest, leaving a divot, and nothing more. Churchill fires a rapid volley of bullets, with no more effect. Still, you can't take your eyes off your Houndour.

“Angelica, get up!” You plead.

“Lily, Bubbles!” Sarah yelps, but before the Lotad can comply, Golurk flicks its wrist, and a softball-sized stone forms in mid-air and rockets at the diminutive Pokemon, knocking her on her back, where she twitches, whimpering.

“Please!”

Angelica twitches, and your heart leaps. Gradually pushing her way to her feet, her bony armor visibly broken on her ribs, your Houndour still stands, her left front paw curled under and her other limbs shaking. She growls, the rumble building up louder and louder, until she erupts with a deafening howl. A white light begins to pour from her eyes and mouth, before spreading out to cover her entire body. The light swells and flares, the body underneath visibly growing, before exploding out in a flash of light that makes you close your eyes, and even then you are left with purple spots on your vision that you rapidly blink away.

Where Angelica had stood weakly, what stood in her place stood proudly, head held high, with a curled lip that practically radiated anger and disdain. Easily twice as tall as she had been, Angelica's back was now easily at your waist level, her build tall and lithe, but still corded with wiry muscle. Her bony armor on her ribs had extended down her back, and a long tail with a spade tip whipped behind her. A pair of curled horns jut out above her eyes, white-hot flames licking from her eye sockets. Your cute little Houndour pup had evolved into a Houndoom, and you couldn't be happier.

Angelica barks, and the deep boom echoes through the alley. The Golurk's head twists back to look in her direction, and she growls deeply, her bared teeth glowing black, before flame fills her mouth, going from yellow to white-hot and roaring like a blast furnace. Black energy wreaths her body, and she darts forward in a flash, flowing under Golurk's swinging left arm, before crunching into its narrow upper leg from with crushing power. The leg collapses, sending the massive Pokemon tumbling to the floor with a teeth-rattling thud, Angelica perched on its back. A pair of black jaws circle the Pokemon's head, and it lays unmoving.

You scramble at your belt and pull out a Capsule, before lobbing it at the Golurk. You and Sarah hold your breath as the Pokemon disappears in a flare of energy, and when it flashes in confirmation of the capture, you let it out in an explosion of relief.

“We didn't die!” Sarah cheers, Tattletale, still perched on her shoulders, joining in with a chorus of happy yips.

You stagger over to a wall and slump down, sitting on the ground. Angelica pads over to you and licks your face, and you smile. “Attagirl. You saved us.” She barks happily, and flops down in your lap, driving the breath out of your lungs, but you laugh anyway, and start scratching her ears and the base of her horns. “You're such a big girl now, yes you are!” Running your hands down her back and side, you find the spot on her ribs, and scratch at it until her legs are pumping and tongue is lolling.

Sarah snickers, then kneels by Lily, gingerly flipping her over. The Pokemon is obviously bruised, but seems ok, as your companion returns her to her ball. “It's mid-afternoon, but I'm worn out. Want to try and find some shelter and call it a night?”

“Absolutely.” You reply vehemently. It was your second day in Old Brockton, and now that you were coming down off the adrenaline rush, your hands were shaking. You could have _died_. Shaking your head, you glance over at Churchill, who is limping toward you, supporting himself on his stick like a cane. One of his legs is visibly twisted. “Angelica, off.” Your Houndour – Houndoom, rather – gets up off your lap, and Churchill slumps down beside you as you pull out a first aid kit. After some probing, your best guess is that he's twisted or sprained his knee, and a quick shot of a Pokemon health regenerator has him feeling better within just a few minutes. “You did great too, Churchill. Great shooting.” You're still not sure how much he understands, but you could swear that he rolls his eyes at you. Returning the reptile to his capsule, you look to Sarah. “Think we should shelter in a building, or do you just want to hole up here? Looks like there's room for our tents.”

“Fine by me.” The blonde replies. You push yourself to your feet, and it's the work of a few short minutes to set up the pair of pup tents. Some part of you wishes that you could build a fire, but self-heating military surplus MREs will do in a pinch, and would attract less attention from wild Pokemon. You slot the Capsule containing Golurk into the Transmit Station, and as the Pokemon is broadcast in its energy form to the central database in Brock Town, you idly flip through the log of Pokemon you had captured over the past couple of days.

Within just a couple of hours of entering the ruins of the old city, you had encountered a Mightyena absolutely savaging a Gastly. It was too late to capture the ethereal Pokemon before the Dark-type dog Pokemon ripped it into a vapor that swiftly dissipated, but it had been weakened enough that you were able to capture it without much issue. Flights of Starly and Staravia had harried you and Sarah off and on the entire afternoon, but her Shinx, Sparkitty, had wreathed its body in electricity that knocked them out of the air, allowing her to capture a pair of Starly, as well as one Staravia, with Angelica knocking a second Staravia out of the air with a well-aimed fireball. Unfortunately, it died of its burns before you could capture it, but you weren't a big fan of the species anyway, and Sarah had groused that the three Pokemon only netted her 30 Trade Credits altogether.

After a couple of hours respite, a Fletchinder dive bombed Angelica, but she handily dispatched it with a well-timed Crunch – which you were rapidly discovering was not for anything you wanted to capture unless it was massively overpowered – that had reduced the bird to a pile of broken bones and feathers. You did manage to capture a Linoone that had tried sneaking up on you overnight, Churchill's keen eyes and skills with Bullet Seed knocking it out before it could rummage in your backpack.

You took a bite of your MRE – artificial 'Chicken' alfredo, edible, but not the best – and looked over the offered Trade value for the Pokemon. Right now, you can get 25 TC for the Linoone, and another 35 for the Mightyena. You were tempted to keep the Mightyena, but… Well, Angelica could cover anything that he could do. That would need some more thought. There's a ping, and a screen pops up on the Pokepedia. You look at the offered amount. Blink. Check again. Yep, that number is still the same.

“Sarah, care to double check this for me?” You pass her the encyclopedia.

The blonde glances at the screen, before nearly dropping it. “One hundred and sixty-five Credits for Golurk!” She yelps.

“Well, it was scary enough.” You reply, taking the device back. “We'll split it, naturally. I certainly don't want to have to train that thing.”

Sarah gulps. “I'm not sure I'd be able to look at it without flinching. I'll take 80, let you have the 85.”

“Deal.” You tap a few buttons, and you're 85 Credits richer. Well, richer in that you can trade for Pokemon. TC don't actually have monetary value, you checked. You set the encyclopedia down, and take another bite of the MRE. There's a faint squeaking beside you, and Angelica's head whips around from where she was laying watching the entrance to the alleyway. You look down, and freeze. Lying by your side, barely an inch from your leg, is a fuzzy yellow Pokemon with long, black-tipped ears and a zig-zagged tail like a stylized lightning bolt.

“Is that a Pikachu?” Sarah whispers.

“Yeah.” you squeak. The Pokemon were notoriously flighty and temperamental, but were popular because they were fluffy little dynamos. The Pikachu looks up at you, squeaks again, its nose wiggling, and settles back down, carefully not touching you. You gingerly grab a Capsule off your belt and tap the vibrant yellow Pokemon with the ball. It vanishes in a flash of red light, and the ball accepts the capture without any issue.

You and Sarah stare at each other for a long moment, before she finally starts snickering. You pick it up, and the minutes of laughter, both at the absurdity of what happened and the sheer relief of survival leave you both feeling much better.

You while away a few hours doing additional research on Lycanroc - and getting distracted with links to other entries in the Pokepedia - before turning in for the night around one in the morning, when Sarah relieves you for the late night watch.

The swarm of assorted bats, a mix of Zubat, Golbat, Woobat, and Swoobat that descends on your camp shortly before dawn detracts somewhat from your mood, but Gaius's sonic shriek is so jarring to the swarm that he drove them off nearly single-handedly, and it's easy to capture the stunned Pokemon, leaving you with three bats each.

You yawn widely after transmitting the Woobat, Swoobat, and Zubat – and wishing that whoever named the damn things hadn't made them all sound ridiculously similar – to your storage system. Sarah passes you a chemically heated mug of strong tea. “I'm thinking that we should head towards the far northern edge of town. The studies I've read say Lycanroc like areas where they can roam and plenty of room to circle and whittle away at prey, and these tall buildings are too cramped. The old city thins out to the north, and there are some old parks and sports fields up there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sarah chirps, and starts packing up her tent. You scratch Angelica's ear, briefly marveling that you don't have to stoop down to reach it, before getting your own gear packed up. It doesn't take long before you find yourself on the road again.

An hour of walking takes you out of the business district and into an area with small homes. Birds are singing, insects chirping, and Angelica is trotting at your side, ears perked up and swiveling at each call. You pass a former playground, the rusting remains of swing sets and monkey bars creaking in the breeze. A small murder of Murkrow perched on the bars watch you pass, but otherwise do nothing. Further along, a large overgrown field, which may have been a soccer field before the Event, is backed by a large, artificial berm that leads up into some large dilapidated athletic buildings. The grass rustles and waves from the breeze and unseen Pokemon, and you find yourself smiling contentedly.

Suddenly, a howl splits the air, and multiple ripples of trampled grass start threading through the grass at high speed. There's a series of frantic squawks, before a red and white-furred Lycanroc with a hunched, almost humanoid posture, leaps up into the air, pivoting so that it lands elbow first in an explosion of feathers. “Target spotted.” You mutter, resting your hand on Angelica's shoulder.

“Was that an elbow drop?” Sarah asks, slightly bemused.

“Some Rockruff evolve into conventional Lycanroc, which are speed specialists that do hit and run attacks with bites and sharpened rocky manes.” You reply, keeping your voice low. “Others wind up looking like werewolves, with that hunched over pose and longer fore-limbs. They often pick up moves that resemble wrestling or brawling, but don't seem to produce Fighting-Type energy.” There's a howl of victory, and the half-plucked body of a male Unfezant arcs into the air, where a lithe, tan Lycanroc, this one conventionally wolf-shaped, snatches it out of mid-air and bolts back towards the berm. Two large furrows in the grass follow it, with another small handful of narrow channels behind, until the grass is still once again.

“So, three Lycanroc is my best guess. Not sure how many Rockruff.” Sarah mutters.

“They likely dug out a burrow in the berm at the back of the field.” You reply. Angelica looks up at you, then at the grass, and opens her mouth, letting flame pool in her mouth. “No, we don't want to burn the field.” It's all you can do to keep from laughing as she whines, snuffing out the flame.

Looking closely, it appears that the overgrown field is lower and has more visibility closer to the berm, which would let you approach and be able to see Pokemon approaching. On the other hand, that would mean that the Lycanroc could see you coming. Or, you could approach through the tall grass, but it was nearly up to your armpits, up to Sarah's neck, and would be a slog to get through… Nah, you'll go around.

“Let's swing around and go along the ridge, see if we can find the burrow.”

It's just a few more minutes walk to get to the berm, and it's even higher than you thought, A sheer slope that would be extremely difficult to climb unaided, covered with thick grass and brush, going up thirty feet before leveling off, and sporting the ruins of a sports complex perched on the top. Along the base, however, is a broad flattened area with shorter grass. Before long, you come to the mouth of an excavated tunnel, one that Angelica could probably enter if she ducked her head, but for you to go in, you would have to crawl on your hands and knees. Inside, you can hear the yips and barks of Lycanroc and Rockruff, along with the tearing of meat.


	13. Chapter 13

“Ok, so we need to draw them out, I'm not sending our Pokemon in to fight inside the lair.” You keep your voice low, listening carefully for any change in the noise coming from inside the burrow. “I'll pt Gaius up front, he can draw them out. Think Lily can lay down a bubble field without hitting him?”

Sarah nods sharply. “I see what you're saying. Draw them out into a trap with a type advantage, and keep them from using their speed.”

“Bingo. Just try and keep Lily from hitting Gaius.” You pull out the pair of capsules holding the rest of your team, and summon Gaius and Churchill. The Aron skitters in place for a moment, before turning to face the cavern. “Gaius, Wait.” The steel Pokemon stops obediently, and you turn to Churchill. “We're going to be drawing out some Pokemon. I need you to shoot them as fast as you can when they do. Knock them out, don't kill.” Churchill nods, and draws out his stick cigar into a short blowgun. 

A few seconds of whispered instructions, and the three Pokemon are arranged in a loose triangle, Gaius on the tip, about ten feet in front of the entrance to the lair, and Churchill and Lily flanking him. You and Sarah stand a few feet behind them, Angelica by your side, Tattletale sitting primly at Sarah's feet. Sparkitty was held in reserve, although you honestly suspected that if you needed the Shinx, things would be going very badly indeed.

“Gaius!” The Aron looks to you and makes a warbleing chirp. “Forward and Metal Shriek, into the cave!” Gaius skitters forward a few paces, and then lets loose a massive, ear-drum-rattling shriek into the lair, sending dust drifting down from the earthen roof of the Lycanroc's home. A chorus of pained yelps and whimpers erupt from the depths of the burrow. “Gaius, back!” As the Aron scoots backward, Lily blasts a pressurized stream of white foam at the entrance, coating a broad area in front of the cave, as well as a significant section of the floor and sloped walls of the tunnel, with an expanding field of water-filled bubbles. 

Seconds later, a pair of glowing red eyes appears in the shadows at the back of the burrow. Angelica growls, deep in her throat. The Lycanroc prowls back and forth for a moment, then inches forward, showing the hunched posture and spiked white mane of the unusual red-furred variant of the species. It's obviously wary, and inches forward, eyes darting from the Pokemon outside to the bubbles coating the entrance to its burrow. The Lycanroc reaches out with one over-sized claw and pokes a bubble, jerking it back with a whimper as the orb explodes with pressurized water. It vanishes into the darkness, and the burrow goes silent.

You wait for a couple of minutes. Nothing happens. “They aren't coming out.” You mutter.

“Think they're just holing up and hoping we go away?”

“Maybe. Or they could be trying to dig an escape tunnel, if they don't have one already.” You reply. “Angelica, can you fill up the tunnel with smoke without getting too close to the bubble field?”

Your Houndoom looks at the bubbles and barks once, trotting forward to the very edge of the foam, before exhaling a heavy stream of black smoke in a jet that rapidly flows and curls in unnatural ways as it flows into the cave. She doesn't stop until curls of smoke start billowing back out, the dark cave full of roiling, noxious fumes. Angelica looks back at you, flame glowing from within her mouth. “No!” you bark. “Don't light it!” The dog manages to look surly, but snuffs out the flame in her mouth and leaps over to your side. It looks like you are going to have to find outlets for her new pyromania, that's the second time she's offered to set the area on fire…

There's the sound of coughing and heavy canine breathing in the smoke, and then a tan blur shoots out of the black clouds, missing the initial foam inside the cave entirely, but landing squarely in the trapped entrance. A massive blast of water throws the Lycanroc off its feet, and it lands, whimpering, on its side. Churchill sends a volley of glowing wooden bullets into its ribs, and the wolf-like Pokemon yelps, but doesn't rise. He barely has time to turn his attention to the cave again before the red-furred Lycanroc emerges with a howl and a leap, aiming at Lily, only for the Lotad to knock it out of the air with a massive bubble. It lands next to her, and she hops on top of the him, adroitly avoiding claws before settling down, glowing bright green. Lycanroc visibly weakens and passes out within seconds. 

“Where are the rest?” You ask, under your breath, only for a horde of brown puppy-like Rockruff to pour out of the smoke, only to fall afoul of the trapped area in the entrance of the cave. The explosion of pressurized water scatters the first-stage Pokemon like bowling pins, and you spot Sarah pulling out empty Capsules out of the corner of your eye. “Wait. I think there's one more Lycanroc.” Sure enough, just seconds later, a tan-furred Lycanroc emerges, picking its way through the mud, nuzzling at the still bodies of its pups. It looks directly at you, and growls, leaping out of the cave. Aron intercepts it with a headbutt, his skull gleaming in the mid-day sun, and there's an audible crunch as the wolf tumbles off its feet. The Lycanroc stands up, yelping as its front right paw touches the ground, and shakes its mane, shards of rock flying at Gaius, where they ricochet off his steel shell.

“Those aren't very effective.” Sarah comments. You roll your eyes. Churchill lifts his pipe, the wood glowing green as it fills in into a close-combat baton, but then he looks back at Gaius and stops. The Aron opens his mouth and screams, a cone of intense sound making the Lycanroc stagger, its eyes and ears bleeding. One final headbutt, and the wolf falls to the ground and lies still. 

“Good job, Gaius!” The Aron squeals happily, spinning in place, the sun glaring off his domed head. Wait. He's glowing all over, now. The white light expands to cover your Pokemon, finally subsiding to reveal Gaius's form as a Lairon. He's much longer now, about five feet long from his nose to his stumpy tail, and thick clawed legs support a broad, stocky body, banded and ridged with metal plates. Gaius's startlingly blue eyes glaze over in obvious confusion, before clearing up as he rears back in a happy bugle. From the corner of your eye, you see Sarah grimace, before pasting on a smile. Well, maybe if she actually trained her Pokemon, she'd get hers to evolve. Lily, at least, is a little powerhouse, and probably only needs a nudge.

“Gaius, Churchill, check the cave, see if there are any more in there.” As the pair of Pokemon enter the burrow, you start capturing the battered Rockruff and Lycanroc. Fortunately, there were no casualties, and after a few minutes, you and Sarah are looking at a pile of Capsules containing three Lycanroc and five Rockruff. Your Pokemon emerge from the burrow empty-pawed, although Gaius is snacking on the remains of the Unfezant, so you turn to Sarah. “How do you want to split these?”

The blonde girl taps her chin in thought. “Well, I wouldn't be opposed to a cute rock puppy...”

“Rockruff are cute, but they can be tough to train. They're much closer to old-world wolves or coyotes than dogs.” You state. “If you want to, I would be happy to give you some tips, though.” 

Sarah nods. “I'll hold onto at least one, then, but I can tell I need to work on my current team some more.”

“No shame in that. I'm considering keeping a Rockruff as well, but I'm thinking we need to turn in the adult Lycanroc.” You check the current Trade Credit prices for the Pokemon. “Rockruff are going for 20 TC each, but the adult Lycanroc are flagged by the PRT, 40 each for the regular ones, and 60 for the red one.” There's a note indicating that they want to research the odd divergence in evolution. Interesting.

“So with us keeping a Rockruff each, that would be 200 TC total.” Sarah concludes. “Want to split that evenly?”

“Sure. Let's wait to turn them in until we get back, I don't know which Rockruff I want.”

The trip back to civilization is uneventful, surprisingly. Perhaps the Pokemon know to be wary of your presence, or maybe it's just coincidence. Since you're no longer wandering, looking for Pokemon, you're out of Old Brockton by nightfall, and report into the Assignment Office. Crystal is on duty again tonight, and happily logs your mission as complete. “So, you've got a lot of Pokemon stored. Want to turn in any for Trade Credit?”


	14. Chapter 14

You look over your list of stored Pokemon for a long moment. The Mightyena couldn't do anything major that Angelica can't, and you just weren't interested in most of the rest. The Lycanroc and Rockruff….

“Do you know what's going to be done with the pack we captured?” You ask.

Crystal hums thoughtfully, and looked up some files on her console. “It looks like they're earmarked for a study on evolution divergence, due to the difference between the normal and feral Lycanroc. The whole group will likely be transmitted to a research location in Colorado.”

So they'll be kept together, that's good. You'd hate to break up a fam – a pack like that. And given that you already had Gaius on your team… Well, a Rockruff puppy would be cute, but not terribly useful. “I think I will pass on keeping a Rockruff for myself. I'll trade in everything except for the Pikachu.

Crystal punches a few buttons, and passes you an electonic pad to sign confirmation. “Going to train the thunder-mouse?”

“Yeah, I think so. It actually approached peacefully, practically begged to be captured.” Which was still quite odd, you hadn't ever heard of things like that happening before.

The PRT receptionist frowned. “That's weird.” She looks up a few more files as you set a Capsule in a receiver to pick up the Pikachu. “I do see records that we released a couple of trained breeding pairs of Raichu in Old Brockton, to try and introduce a natural counter to all the Air-type Pokemon. Pikachu can be pretty bright, and Trained Pokemon often appear to teach their young not to be hostile to humans, so that may be a contributing factor. I'll make a note, a researcher may want to contact you to get more information.” She smiled. “Sound's like she's a sweet girl, though.”

Ok, so you're keeping the female Pikachu, rounding out the ranged capability of your team. “Sarah, did you decide whether you are going to keep a Rockruff?”

The blonde nodded. “I think the one with the black stripes is cute, and a fast rock-type will be good on my team.” She scratches Tattletale's ears lightly. “I can call you if I need help with her, right?”

“Absolutely.” You reply. “Just remember to be firm, consistent, and calm, and everything should be fine. Keep Lily out in the first couple of weeks, just in case you need help subduing her.”

“Thanks.”

You turn back to Crystal. “Can I see a list of Pokemon currently available for my Trainer Status?”

The receptionist nods, and your Pokepedia pings an alert as an update is sent to it. You scroll through the list, frowning lightly. Don't need a Kakuna, Lilipup would be fun, but not hugely useful for quite some time – although you make a mental note to look into picking some up in the future, once you're closer to settling down – Mudbray and Snorunt have good typing, but you just weren't interested in them. Oshawott is a possibility… but no, not right now. Taylor's Ralts, Arwen, had been interesting, but rather timid, and while the possibilities presented by a Psychic type are interesting, they just aren't interesting enough. The Riolu, on the other hand, was an intriguing possibility. You flip over to the Pokepedia entry and skim through it. Riolu were Fighting-type Pokemon with a strong canine resemblance, and live in small pack structures in isolated mountain areas, so this one was likely from the Appalachians. Relatively small, but powerful martial artists, with some odd energy-based attacks that don't seem to quite match anything else on record, as well as an evolution that is rarely seen. You're intrigued. And a Fighting-type Pokemon certainly wouldn't hurt on your team…

“Can I get the Riolu?” You ask.

“Sure.” Crystal chirps, and you place another empty Capsule in the receiver, after retrieving the one with Pikachu. A few seconds of cycling lights, and you retrieve the ball from its cradle. “I'll note that you've got a couple of new Pokemon, so we'll be aware that you're needing some training time, but I'd recommend not taking more than about three weeks, or the higher-ups will start getting antsy.”

“Understood.”

“Oh, and you may want to look into our special training services. We have specialist trainers who can help teach your more experienced Pokemon some more nuanced tricks.”

“That would be helpful, I'll look into it. Thanks, Crystal.”

After a brief goodbye, and exchanging contact information with Sarah, you find yourself drawn to the Boardwalk, which is still bustling by lantern-light. You splurge a bit, your Trainer stipend covering a bowl of authentic Japanese noodles from a hand-cart, topped with actual pork. Taking a bite of the spicy meat – yum, wild Tepig – you lean on the rail of the boardwalk, looking out over the bay. Angelica nudges your side, and you toss her a slice of pork, which she snaps out of mid-air. “It's going pretty quickly, isn't it?” People are swimming, either alone or with their Pokemon, out in the waters of the moon-lit bay. In the far distance, you see larger shapes moving in the water, occasionally breaching to show the opalescent gleam of Gyarados scales. A small boat bobs beside them, and the general calm indicates that they were trained – at least as far as the rage-filled sea serpents could be trained. One of the enormous Pokemon leaps out of the water, spraying a stream of greenish flame into the sky, and there's a burst of applause, like it was a fireworks show. You smile, and scratch Angelica between the horns. Life is good.

The next morning, after a good night's sleep, you're in your favorite Training ground, the one with an oak tree and a grassy field. Your team is out of their capsules, enjoying the sunny day, with Gaius happily browsing on the grass as Angelica lounges at your feet and Churchill leans against the tree, arms crossed. You think he might be a little put out that he hasn't evolved yet, but Gaius contributed a lot in Brock Town, taking out a significant number of bats, nearly alone, so it's not totally surprising that he would have collected enough energy to evolve. In any case, you don't have time to waste, so you're going to take a bit of a risk. Running your thumbs over the release buttons for both Riolu and Pikachu's capsules, you summon both of them into the grassy field.

Pikachu jolts to her hind feet, head darting back and forth, until she spots you and hunkers back down to all fours, while the Riolu drops immediately into a martial arts stance, feet spread and ready, with his paws held wide and ready to strike or redirect blows. “It's ok, you're safe here.” You sooth, softly and evenly, dropping down into a squat to present a less threatening profile. The Pikachu scoots forward, and you hold out some dried fruit for her to nibble. She snatches the snack out of your hand with a surprisingly dextrous front paw, and munches on it, staring at you with large eyes. “That's it, I'm not going to hurt you.” It's almost unnerving how trusting the Pikachu is. What happened to it in Old Brockton, that it's this willing to approach you?

Shaking your head lightly, you glance at the Riolu, still rigidly holding his stance. His attention, though, was on Churchill. The Treecko, without a visible change in his usual placid expression, seemed to be smirking around the twig held in his mouth. He stops leaning on the tree and ambles towards the Riolu, plucking the twig from his mouth and expanding it into a long baton with a twirl. The Riolu adjusts his footing, a glint of understanding in his eyes. He nods, and Churchill vanishes in a blur of red and orange, before reappearing with a sharp _crack_ of wood on bone, as the Riolu blocks his downward strike with a raised forearm. Another blurred movement and _crack_ of impact, and the baton is blocked by the opposite arm.

The black growths on the back of Riolu's head twitch, and the pair of Pokemon disappear in a swirl of impossibly fast motion, punctuated by impacts and grunts of effort. The impasse is broken by a flare of green light from Churchill, and when you blink away the spots in your vision, you see that he has the Riolu pinned, the wooden baton molded into a pair of wooden cuffs, locking the canine combatant's paws behind his back. The Riolu yips, and Churchill gets up, shrinking the wood back to a stub, before helping the Riolu to his feet. Clasping his paws together, Riolu bows lightly to Churchill, and then again, more deeply, to you.

You smile. “Welcome to the team.” Reaching out slowly, you stroke Pikachu's soft fur, little crackles of static tingling on your hand, and she leans into your touch. “We've got a lot to work on.”


	15. Chapter 15

The chime of an incoming video call on your Pokepedia startles you, making you lose your focus on the sparks and crackles of lightning leaping around the stone-floored training area. “Ok, STOP!” you order, and the sparring match between Tully – the Riolu wearing a blindfold to train his extra senses – and Acey stops immediately. The pair of new Pokemon took to their training with you like fish to water, and already had acclimatized to your orders. Your Pikachu, who you had decided to name Acey after some deliberation, had learned to moderate her electric blasts from 'crispy' to paralyzing, and Tully's senses were tuned to the point where he could dodge attacks in his blindspots nearly every time. You grab your Pokepedia and check the caller ID. Instructor Holland? It's only been three weeks, and you were actually intending to visit the dispatch office to get a mission today. You answer the call, and Ethan's concerned face comes on-screen. “Rachel, get your ass to the dispatch office, I've pulled your 'Mon from their training classes, you've got an emergency mission.” 

You recall Tully and Acey, the only Pokemon currently on you, and grab your bag before jogging out of the training yard. “On my way, what's going on?” 

“Got a rescue mission for you. Laborne missed his check-in and won't answer calls.” Brian's missing? You accelerate to a run, heading for Trainer housing to pick up the rest of your gear.

“Why me?” You ask, switching the device to a voice call and holding it to your ear. It's bulky, but doable, and better than trying to run and video chat. 

“You've got a Houndoom, and hopefully she can track his scent. Our other dedicated Ranger Trackers are all out on missions.”

“Got it. Can you pull Taylor Hebert too? We work well together.”

“Nope, she's two days out in Woodland Hills, and Sarah Livsey's not cleared for rescue missions. You're solo for this one.”

“Understood. Be there in 15, max.” He ends the call, and you focus on running. Pounding through Trainer Housing, you fumble at the lock of your door, and scramble to pack your gear. Fortunately, you had remembered to draw out more regen hypos and field rations, so it was a matter of making sure you had your tent and bedroll, spare Capsules, snacks and Pokechow, and some essential gear – rope, firestarters, survival knife, etc.

You skid into the dispatch office thirteen minutes later, panting like Angelica after a long run. Ethan is pacing in the office, and tosses you a cloth bag holding three Capsules. You check them, just to confirm, and smile as you see that they hold the rest of your team. “Good, you're here. You're heading into the mires, south of Brock Town.”

“The Mires?” Ah, shit, you hadn't done a lot of research on that area.

“Cold-water marshes, full of Plant- and Water- types. Laborne went in to hunt down some reports of odd lights and noises, as well as do some rounding on his team. He missed his 24-hour check-in six hours ago.” Ethan pinches his brow with his good hand. “And there's no answer when we call. With luck, he's just lost, or hasn't charged his 'Pedia.”

“Or whatever was causing those lights and noises found him.” You conclude.

Ethan sighs. “Yeah, or that. And Brian's got ambition. He's a bit reckless, honestly.” He shakes his head. “I just don't want to lose another of your class...” he mutters to himself.

“Another? Who'd we lose?” you ask. You hadn't heard anything, but then again, you were out of the gossip loop.

“Veder.” You groan. “The poor kid got barbecued by his own starter. He's not dead, but he's out of the program.”

“Well, at least he's not dead.”

“True.” Ethan sighs. “I raided Laborn's place and got a shirt with his scent, so hopefully you can track him down.” He hands you a plastic bag with a crumpled muscle shirt sealed inside. “And please be careful. The priority is finding Laborn and getting him back home.” A hint of Ethan's good cheer reappears. “Alive, so I can chew him out.”

“I'll do my best.”

“I've pushed an updated list of known Pokemon in the Mires to your Pokepedia.” Ethan states. “And good luck.”

“Thank you, Ethan.” At your reply, the instructor nods sharply, and returns to the back of the office.

Grabbing Angelica's Capsule, you release her, relaxing minutely as the Houndoom appears, panting and whipping her long tail back and forth. “Hey girl, have a good time?” Angelica barks in reply. Over the past couple of weeks, you had actually had your Pokemon lodged with specialized trainers, so that they could develop further abilities while you focused on breaking in Acey and Tully. Hopefully, Dave Embros, the PRT fire-type specialist, had let Angelica exercise enough of her pyromaina that she wouldn't offer to burn down the swamp, like she had for the grassy areas in Old Brockton. “Good. We need to head out. Think you can find someone if I give you their scent?” Another happy bark. “Ok, let's go.”

The Mires are a few hours south of Brock Town by foot, so by the time you reach the small PRT-maintained cabin on the edge of the area, it's already nightfall. You've been up for hours already, and regretfully make the decision to have a few hours of sleep, before starting early in the morning. Hopefully, Brian will be able to make it that long. As you chew on imitation meatloaf and reconstituted potatoes out of a MRE, you look over the list of known Pokemon in the swampy area on your Pokepedia.

\----------------------------------------------------

Corphish/Crawdaunt

Surskit

Wingull/Pelipper

Shroomish/Breloom

Wurmple/Silcoon/Beautifly/Cascoon/Dustox

Mudkip/Marshtomp/Swampert

Kecleon

Turtwig/Grotle/Torterra

Croagunk/Toxicroak

Carnivine

Tangela

Oddish/Gloom/Vileplume

Bellsprout/Weepinbell/Victreebel

Poliwag/Poliwhirl/Poliwrath/Politoed

Froakie/Frogadier/Greninja

Lotad/Lombre/Ludicolo

Electrike/Manectric

Tympole/Palpitoad/Seismitoad

Ducklett/Swanna

Solosis/Duosion/Reuniclus

Ekans/Arbok

Seviper

Snivy/Servine/Serperior

Sewaddle/Swadloon/Leavanny

Foongus/Amoonguss

Spinarak/Ariados

Joltik/Galvantula

Yanma/Yanmega

Wimpod

Ferroseed/Ferrothorn

Seedot/Nuzleaf/Shiftry

Tynamo/Eelekrik/Eelektross

\----------------------------------------------------

That's… Well, that's a lot of grass and water type Pokemon. You're going to need to be on your toes. You glance at Gaius, who is happily chowing down on special chromium-laced steel flakes. His armor plates have been polished until he shines like a mirror, and apparently he should be quite resistant to damage, but the Mires is not a good place for him. Churchill, however, should be in his element. The red-skinned Treecko is sitting cross-legged against the wall, in the last light of the setting sun coming through the far window. You hope you did the right thing… He hadn't been enthused about the special training at the Happy Plants Greenhouse, but now, seeing him meditating and gathering energy from the sun, you have high hopes for his future prospects. According to the PRT trainers who recommended the place, learning to absorb solar energy was an important first step to unlock some rather powerful future abilities.

Tully is slowly going through deliberate martial arts moves in a meditative kata, his eyes closed and expression calm. In the limited time they had together, he had formed a bond with Churchill, but while your Treecko preferred long periods of stillness, followed by bursts of speed, The Riolu never seemed happy unless he was moving. Oh, he would hold fighting poses, sometimes for hours in self-imposed challenges, but when not actively training, he practically had jitters. Angelica gnaws on a synthetic chew toy at your feet, and you lean down to scratch her behind her horns, as you watch Acey clamber onto Gaius's back. The Pikachu had latched onto the larger Pokemon, potentially because of his metal armor, but more likely due to his more placid demeanor. The Lairon had relaxed considerably after his evolution, and was definitely more intelligent.

“Ok, guys. Time for some sleep.” You finally state. It was tempting to keep Pokemon in their capsules overnight, but if done too long… Well, fatigue builds up and can be dangerous. Nobody wants to deal with a crabby Lairon. After much rustling as your Pokemon team settles down in the available bedding, you lie down in a cramped bunk, Angelica a furnace-like heat by your side.

Still, you have trouble sleeping. You know Brian. Not well, true, but you know him. And you wonder whether he is lying in the cold swamp, lost, injured, or worse. What would Taylor say if you can't find him? You drift off into an uneasy slumber, punctuated by nightmares.

In the morning, you have a cold breakfast, before returning all but Angelica to their Capsules. The Mires are a morass of swampy, stagnant water, dense trees, and maze-like paths of relatively dry land. It's overcast, but already shaping up to be a hot, muggy day, and the swarms of midges, flies, and mosquitoes that had gone through the Event unchanged promised a miserable time. Angelica looked at the area, and then back to you, whining. “I know.” You mutter, and pull out the bag holding Brian's shirt. “Can you track his scent?” The Houndoom obediently snuffs at the opened bag, and then turns back toward the marsh. 


	16. Chapter 16

“Damn it, Brian, I hope you're alive, so I can kill you myself for dragging me out here.” you grouse. Angelica whines in agreement as you pick your way through the trees and vines clogging a narrow trail along the top of a narrow section of dry land. Stagnant pools of water, full of reeds and rotting plants, lend a heavy scent to the air, and could conceal any number of Pokemon, as could the vegetation on all sides. The whine of a mosquito – you had lost count of how many you had swatted or waved away at this point – grates in your ear, and you swat your neck. _Got the little fucker_! The canopy of trees block out most of the light of the midday sun, leaving you in muggy, green-tinted misery.

From his perch straddling Angelica's back, Churchill's yellow eyes move constantly, darting from bushes and vines to tree limbs. Already, he had demolished a young Snivy that had dropped off a branch with his staff-work, killing it with a final precision blow to the back of the head. Angelica had casually broiled a Wurmple crossing with a mouthful of flame, but otherwise, the only life you had actually seen was mundane insects, mosquitoes, and biting gnats. You feel as though the other boot is about to drop, for some reason.

Ahead, the trees thin out, and you can see a large sunny clearing on high ground, full of tall grass and other, broad-leafed weeds clumped thickly, soaking up the sunshine. You find yourself smiling, and pick up your pace slightly. Angelica pants happily, and trots ahead slightly, Churchill bouncing on her back. As you emerge into the clearing, you feel yourself relaxing, as if the dim light of the dense trees you had been walking under were depressing your mood. “Ok, Angelica, let's take a few.” A thought flits across your mind. “Think Brian came this way?” Angelica has been following Brian's scent, although you simply didn't have the woodcraft ability to confirm that for yourself, and there had been a couple of locations where there seemed to be evidence of combat. The Houndoom snuffs deeply at the ground, then barks twice. “Sure, sounds good.” You chuckle.

You're feeling really good, actually. The sun feels nice, and you sit down in the grass, pulling out a meal bar. Churchill jumps off his position on Angelica's back and assumes a cross-legged position, soon glowing with a faint nimbus of green-gold light as he absorbs energy. Angelica lays down behind you, and you rest against her side, on the flanks where her bony armor won't poke your back. It's nice here… Even smells nice. The grass is rustling rhythmically in the breeze, and you almost hear a faint lullaby. Your eyes drift closed…

And then pop open. There's no breeze. You jump to your feet, shaking off the sleepiness that now seems unnatural. “Angelica, something's here!” One after another, the broad blades of grass that you had written off as weeds pull themselves out of the grass, revealing dozens of Oddish, the blue, bulb-like bodies and beady black eyes supporting themselves on root-like feet. Anger courses through you, partially at the Pokemon, but mostly at yourself for letting your guard down. “Flamethrower!” you bellow, and Angelica breathes out a broad cone of flame that instantly sets the grass in the area alight, and transforms a broad swath of Oddish into burning, screaming brands that stumble and bump into each other before collapsing to the ground in silence.

A sickly yellow haze fills the air, and you pull your bandana up over your mouth and nose. Angelica coughs and hacks, and Churchill's eyes start watering. Poison. “Keep burning them, girl!” You back out of the clearing, Churchill by your side, as Angelica keeps launching wave after wave of flame at the encroaching Oddish, but before long, your loyal dog is having trouble breathing, and you're feeling choked and feverish yourself. The air is choked with thick smoke from the grass fire in the clearing, mixed with the poisonous fumes from the Oddish. “Angelica, back in the ball!” You order, and return her to the Capsule, along with Churchill, before summoning Gaius.

“Gaius, defend!” The Lairon bugles, and lowers his steel-domed head, standing in front of you as the fire rages. Fortunately, it seems to be dying down, and as the fire fades, you see that it has wiped out nearly all the Oddish, and the few that remain are badly burned, slowly succumbing to their wounds. The flames were contained to the formerly grassy clearing, now ashy and smoldering, and it doesn't seem like they are likely to spread to the trees. You pant heavily, catching your breath, hoping that whatever toxin is in the air is not deadly. Gradually, your pulse stops racing as the smoke clears, although you still feel weak and clammy.

Fishing medical supplies out of your backpack, you leave Gaius to graze on the cooked bodies of the Oddish, and summon Angelica back out of her ball. She appears on her feet, growling, but once she sees that there are no further enemies, she collapses to the ground, sides heaving. Some work with a stimulant inhaler and a toxin neutralizer, and she gradually catches her breath, but she's still exhausted, lying limp in beside you under the treeline.

“You did good, girl.” You whisper, scratching her ears. Angelica rolls her eyes. “Hey, I didn't expect that from burning them. Probably should have.” A light growl, with no heat in it. “No, it's not your fault, and everyone is ok.” The dog sighs, and closes her eyes. You keep scratching her ears as she rests for a while, watching Gaius stomp out the last embers of burning grass and munch on roasted Oddish.

Finally, after Angelica perks up a bit, you return Gaius to his ball and summon out Churchill again. “Ready to go, guys?” Angelica pushes herself to her feet, still obviously fatigued, but sniffs around the edge of the clearing a few times, before finally seeming to catch the scent and leading you on another winding path deeper into the trees. Churchill, rather than riding on her back, jumps from tree to tree, catching himself on vines and generally having a good time, although you can tell that he is still watching for potential danger.

A couple of hours of walking pass, and you find yourself in a broad lowland area, where the trees are further apart, with muddy water making each step treacherous. Angelica picks her way from high spot to high spot, going from scent to scent, but you are starting to see places where branches or grass were trampled, especially in places where the Houndoom can catch the scent. There's one brief incident with a Tangela, but Angelica casually dispatches it with a fireball, obviously in no mood for any shit. Churchill slogs along beside you, refusing to ride on Angelica's back.

Pulling your boots out of a muddy spot with a _schlorp_, you clamber up onto a patch of raised ground with a large oak tree, and collapse against the trunk. It's late afternoon, and while the sun isn't setting yet in the late summer sky, the shadows are getting longer. You're exhausted. Angelica flops down beside you, and her eyes instantly close. Churchill shimmies up the tree and lounges on a branch, chewing on his stick.

Is Brian even alive? You pull out your Pokepedia and try to call his number, but there's no answer. Your gut churns, anxiety and concern warring with fatigue, with self-doubt cheering it on. Were you the best person for the job? Or were you just the most disposable. Better than throwing away people who genuinely knew what they were doing. You've only been a trainer for a few months! A summer! But… Well, if you don't try to find your classmate, could you live with yourself? No, of course not. You sit under the tree for a few minutes, catching your breath and calming your mind, watching the slowly shifting patterns of light shining through the leaves of the old tree.

A branch trembles, and you see a hint of red carapace in the canopy. Damn it, not again! You're opening your mouth to call a warning to Churchill, when his eyes snap open, and he rolls off the branch, barely dodging a blast of thick, sticky webbing. A massive Ariados crawls out of the tree hanging upside down from a pair of large branches, before spitting another hunk of web at the Treecko, who dodges narrowly, before drawing his cigar out into a long spear, visibly sharp. You scramble to your feet, looking at Angelica, who has her eyes open, but still isn't moving. Churchill vanishes in a blur of orange, before your eyes readjust, and you spot him, standing upside down on the spider's large abdomen, before he plunges the spear into the back of its head. The Ariados shrieks and falls, and Churchill dodges out of the way. On impact, the spear punches all the way through the bug's neck, nearly severing it in a fountain of thick, reddish ichor. A few twitches, and the spider lies still, legs curled up underneath it.

Churchill grabs his spear and grimaces, trying to shake off the mess, before his eyes go distant. He smiles, and then his body is suffused with white light, swelling and twisting, until he stands nearly three times as tall. The light fades, revealing an orange and red Grovyle, his shoulder level with your waist. Churchill examines his new form, particularly the trio of long leaf-like growths coming from each of his wrists. He flexes the blades, swinging them from where they tuck neatly against his forearms to extend straight out from clenched fists. The leaf-like blades are visibly sharp, dual sided, and Churchill is obviously pleased. He takes the wooden spear, and for a moment, it is suffused with green light, before shrinking and twisting into a tiny amulet of an Ariados, hanging from the abdomen on an intricate wooden chain. He hangs the chain around his neck, and looks at you with piercing yellow eyes. Tucking his leaf-blades against his forearms, Churchill clasps his hands together and bows deeply to you. “Thank you, Churchill.” You murmur. Just how intelligent is he? 

Placing his clawed hand on the tree, Churchill concentrates, and in a small green flare of light, a small chunk of tree with a single green leaf comes away in his hand. He tucks the twig into his mouth, rolling it around as it swells to resemble his prior cigar-like stick. You can't help but chuckle, and Angelica huffs in amusement. “So, all three of you have evolved now.” The Grovyle sits beside you, leaning against the tree, and nods. “You understand pretty much everything I say, don't you?” A raised hand, wobbling in mid-air. “More or less?” A sharp nod. Well, that's something you can work with.

“Is there anything you need?” Churchill pauses for a long moment, obviously thinking deeply, before hopping to his feet. He points at your belt, where his Capsule is latched, and makes a clutching movement, before tapping a spot at his own waist.

What. He wants to carry his own Capsule? You… You've never heard of this. Of _anything_ like this. Is this some secret that the PRT has been keeping? Your eyes drift over to Angelica, sitting quietly by your side, eyes alert, but head resting on her paws. “Angelica, do you want that, too?” The Houndoom looks at you and shakes her head once, before resting her head back on her paws. You look back to Churchill, yellow eyes watching knowingly. “I don't know if I can.”

His reptilian brow furrows in frustration, before smoothing out, but you can see a familiar cautious glint in his eye. He gestures to you, then himself, and then disappears in an instant burst of speed. A moment later, he's standing there, hands open wide.

“Am I afraid you'll run away?” You ask cautiously. It occurs to you that while Angelica is almost never in her Capsule, Churchill spends most of his time not training, eating, or resting inside. He hasn't seen you interact with the PRT. He just knows that he spends lots of time in stasis, for little reason. And yet he still trusts you. “No, I'm not. I trust you to stay with me.” And you do. He's proven himself over and over. “I just have rules I need to follow, and I don't know if I am allowed to give you your Capsule.”

The Grovyle honestly looks confused. He gestures to you, then taps the side of his head with a finger, before flexing the trio of leaves on his left arm forward and making them glow green, before resting back against his arm. Finally, he makes another clutching motion, and points at the ball at your waist.

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.”

Churchill hisses in frustration. Another sharp gesture to you, then to his head, then he flexes his arms, making his muscles stand out under orange hide. He gestures back to you.

“I'm smart and strong?” A nod. “So if I am smart and strong, why can't I give you the ball?” Churchill nods again, smiling. You're flattered, but now you have to think…

“I have rules for you, don't I?”

Churchill nods slowly.

“Don't kill unless I tell you, don't hurt other humans, follow my orders in combat.”

The Grovyle's limbs blur in a complicated series of strikes, before freezing in place in mid-air.

“Yes, controlling yourself, exactly.” You smile. “Other humans have set rules that I have to follow.”

He looks at you for a long moment, before slowly nodding. He points at you, then off towards Brock Town. Some further gestures trace out tall buildings and birds, before he grimaces and stomps three times, slowly.

“Yes! They sent us to Old Brockton, where we fought the Golurk.” That was impressive thinking. “I don't know if one of their rules is that Pokemon cannot carry their own Capsules.”

Another confused look, but one that shifts to dawning comprehension. Finally, Churchill scowls. A wave towards Brock Town, then crossed arms in an x-shape, another clutching movement, and a point towards his capsule.

You shrug. “I don't know.” The Grovyle seems to deflate, and then sits beside you. You put your arm over his shoulder. “I'll check, and if I can, I will.” He glances over, smiles around the stump of wood, and pats your hand with one claw, his scales cools and smooth.

After considering it for a moment, you pull out the capsules for your other three Pokemon, summoning Tulley, Acey, and Gaius to the area beneath the tree. Tully looks at Churchill sharply, then slumps, almost disappointed. “Guys, Churchill evolved, and he made me think a bit. Do you understand me?”

Nothing. Gaius dips his head and crops at some brush, before chewing slowly, while Acey crawls into your lap and nudges at your hand. You start scratching behind her long ears, watching Tully. The Riolu tilts his head, watching you, before he looks over to Churchill and strikes a martial arts pose. You sigh. You're not sure if you're relieved or not that your other Pokemon don't understand you.

Churchill taps your shoulder. When you look over at him, he points at Gaius, then Acey, taps the side of his head, then crosses his arms in an x again. Smart No, you suppose. Another gesture to Tully, a tap on his lips, and then the crossed arms.

“He might not understand what I'm saying?”

Churchill nods, and then stands, walking over to the Riolu, who is trembling from contained energy, before striking an opposing pose. They begin a slow-motion spar, Churchill obviously trying to learn good ways of using his new range and wrist blades.

“I don't know, Angelica. Suddenly it's all complicated again.” Your loyal Houndoom huffs at your side, and you scratch her ears behind the horn. Angelica leans her head on your thigh, and you smile. “Guess you're here for me, though.” You spend a few moments watching the impromptu sparring match, before shaking your head. “Gaius, Tully, Acey, Return!” A series of taps returns them to the Capsules. “We need to cover some more ground, Brian is still out there somewhere.”

Angelica gets to her feet, and you can tell the additional rest did her some good. It's late in the afternoon, but the summer sun won't set for a few more hours, yet. She stretches and barks once, before sniffing out the trail again. You follow her down onto a narrow path on the other side of the tree, Churchill by your side. Brian seems to have followed the path of least resistance, and you soon find yourself heading downhill, along a wide, flat channel with some slow-moving water, full of reeds. Eventually, it would lead to the sea, but you're far enough away from the shore that it's a freshwater creek.

A few minutes of walking, and Angelica stops at a fallen log, where flood waters had eroded a tree until it fell across the broad stream. Hanging from a tangle of branches on the far side is a strip of grey cloth, the first physical evidence you have seen of Brian's passing. Churchill hops up on the log, and you're about to follow, when a flash of silver in the water catches your eye. You barely have time to react before there's a crackle, and a blue-white lance of electricity arcs out of the reeds and knocks the Grovyle flying off the log. Peering closely at the source, you spot a silver-white eel-like Pokemon, only about a foot long. Tynamo. You clutch at your belt, pulling out Acey's Capsule. She's going to be resistant to the electric attacks, which is better than can be said for Churchill or Angelica.

“Acey, Thundershock!” you order as the Pikachu appears, and she complies, a massive crack of lightning arcing towards the smaller fish. While it doesn't have a water type and will absorb electricity, the fish aren't capable of channeling nearly as much electricity as she can. After a few seconds, the Tynamo is belly-up, and Acey is still good to go. “Thanks, Acey.” You kneel and give her a treat, which she takes happily. “Back in the ball, girl.” A flash of red light, and the Pikachu is back in storage.

Churchill clambers onto the bank, clutching a large burn on his shoulder, and it takes a few minutes to get it treated with a spray-on regenerative and some bandages. He's obviously a bit disgruntled at missing the ambush, especially so quickly after his triumph and evolution. You pat his uninjured shoulder gently. “It's ok, happens to all of us.” The Grovyle appears to think for a moment, then nods grudgingly. Crossing the natural bridge formed by the fallen log, you gingerly grab the scrap of grey cloth. One of the edges is crusted black with a streak of dried blood. “Shit. It's a couple of days old.”

Angelica sniffs at the scrap, then leads the way along a broader path through a tangle of tall bushes and short trees that blocks your line of sight and winds back and forth. It's not as wet, fortunately, and you seem to be heading generally parallel to the coast and vaguely uphill, out of the lowest regions of the swamp. By the time you reach a clearing, the sun is beginning to set. Brian has been here as well, a small ring of stones surrounding a fire pit. There's still not much visibility, but there is enough room to set up your tent, and enough brush that you can gather enough for a small campfire. By the time you have everything set up, night has truly fallen, and when you look at the sky, you can see a vast array of stars. You lean against Angelica's side, working your way through a MRE – some kind of tofurkey curry, oddly tasty, albeit spicy – and pondering the day in silence. Your meal, however, is interrupted by a chime from your Pokepedia. It's Ethan.

“Did you find him?” he asks immediately. There's bags of exhaustion under his eyes on the video chat.

“Not yet. I'm on his trail. Think we lost it and wandered for a bit, before picking it back up.” Angelica shifts behind you. “Not your fault, girl.” You murmur, and scratch her ears.

“Looks like you've set up camp.” Ethan states, and then there's a clamor in the background. A young, dark skinned girl, strikingly pretty for a kid, with a purple streak dyed in her hair, pushes her way into the frame.

“Why'd you stop looking for my brother!” Aisha yells. Her eyes are puffy, she's obviously been crying.

“Cause wandering around after dark will just mean we both get killed.” You reply bluntly. “I have to make sure I'm safe and rested, so I can find him and get him back in the best shape I can.”

The girl seems to deflate. “I just need him back safe, OK? Taylor says that you're a good Trainer.” Aisha looks at you pleadingly. “Just bring my brother back.”

You try to paste on a reassuring smile. “I'll do my best.”

“Ok, time to head out, kid. I'll keep you posted.” Ethan gently pushes her out of frame, and nods at someone else off camera. A few seconds later, he looks back to you. “She's gone. Good reasoning, if you don't have any nocturnal Pokemon.” He studies you for a moment. “Something go wrong?”

A sigh works its way out, past your self-control. “I don't know how far behind I am, and whether I can find him. Or get him back safely if I do.”

“All you can do is try, and if you don't make it in time...” Ethan rubs his face. He's unshaven, stubble interspaced with white scarring scraping over his hand. “Well, that's closure. We'll have an evac team on stand-by to Teleport you out if you need it.”

“There's something else, and I don't know what to do.” On the other side of the fire, Churchill looks at you, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh?”

“My Treecko evolved into a Grovyle. He's always been smart, used a stick as a tool and weapon in different ways by shaping it with plant-type energy, but after he evolved, he started using crude sign language and asked if he can carry his Capsule.”

Ethan blinks. “A plant-type expressing complex thoughts and desires and understanding speech as a second-stage evolution? Rachel, you are ridiculously lucky. Or unlucky.” He shakes his head. “Less than six months, and we're having to have this talk. We'll need to sit down later, but in summary – No, he cannot carry his capsule. It's a safety thing, for you and him. If something happens and he needs to be put in stasis quickly, it's best to have the capsule in your hands.”

Churchill nods sharply, and gives you a thumbs up. “I think he understands.”

“Oh god, he's listening.” Ethan groans. “There's other reasons, but that's the main one.” He shakes his head, and mouths 'later'. “Anything else? Pokemon speaking English? Your Houndoom learn to fly?”

You snicker. “No, but I'll let you know if Gaius starts writing haiku.”

“Get some rest.” The instructor rolls his eyes. “And stay safe out there.” The video feed blinks out.

“Is that ok, Churchill?” You ask, and the Grovyle nods.

A yawn slips out. “I do need some sleep, but we need to keep watch. Think you can get Tully to help and keep him in line?”

Churchill tilts his head to the side, a very reptilian movement, before nodding slowly. Pulling out the Riolu's capsule, you pause. “Will you be ok?” He nods, before shifting his legs into a cross-legged position, his twin tails curled around them. You bring out Tully, and watch for a while as, with a series of hisses and gestures, Churchill coaxes the hyperactive Riolu into a similar meditative pose. The odd lobes on the back of his head start flickering with faint blue light, before steadying. Smiling, you crawl into the tent, and once your boots are off, drop into an exhausted slumber.

To be fair, you were not expecting to wake up to an excited Riolu bouncing on your stomach, waving a Capsule holding a freshly captured Solosis, but at this point, you're pretty much resigned to the weird shit.


	17. Chapter 17

After some careful probing, you determine that the Solosis had appeared last night and tried to attack Tully, but Churchill had broken through the floating Psychic Pokemon's telekinetic barriers with a constant stream of wooden bullets. “Why did you capture it, Churchill?”

The Grovyle thinks for a long moment, then points at you, taps his mouth with one finger, and then the side of his head, where you can faintly see a scaly eardrum, before nodding his head, then putting a hand on his chest, fingers spread, then pointing from his lips to you and holding up his arms in his crossed 'no' gesture.

“I can speak with you, but you can't speak to me?” 

Churchill nods, before pointing at the occupied ball in your hand, putting the first two fingertips of both hands to his temples, and then pointing from his lips to you and back to him. 

“It is a Psychic type, yeah. That might be something we can do, but I'll have to research it.” At Churchill's confused look, you explain. “Not all Psychic Pokemon are good at speaking inside other Pokemon's heads – or people's.” A slow nod, then a gesture that evoked your pose when you're reading in your Pokepedia. “Yeah, I'll look it up when we're in a safe area.”

As you pack up the tent, letting the Transmit Station store the Solosis in your personal storage account, you watch the pair of combatant Pokemon out of the corner of your eye. Tully is dancing and hopping in circles around Churchill, throwing fists and kicks, much to both of your amusement. It's becoming increasingly obvious that Churchill is an exceptionally unusual Pokemon, but – you snicker as the Grovyle casually bops Tully on the nose with a long twig, eliciting a startled yip – he seems to get along with the younger fighting type.

Angelica is still trying to doze, and you make a mental note to take her to the clinic after you get out of here. You think that there may be some residual effects from the poisonous fumes she breathed in the battle with the Oddish, but she gets up without complaint when you stroke her neck. “Ready to find Brian and get out of here, girl?” You ask. Angelica barks twice, loud and deep, and sniffs at the fresh rag with Brian's blood on it, before bounding off into the brush.

The next couple of hours see Angelica roasting a passing Seedot, biting a striking Ekans in half with a casual sidestep and bite to the back of the neck, and turning a Sewaddle into a briefly lived torch. She's in a rather bad mood, you think, and wants to be out of here as much as you do. The path you're on is taking you back down into a deeply overgrown area, full of deep puddles and tall trees. There's more evidence of human passage here, broken branches and sliced vines showing where Brian had passed. A Froakie pokes its head out of one of the ponds as you pass, but a lightning-fast motion and flare of green light from Churchill have the small blue frog knocked out, its energy absorbed. You quickly capture it in a Capsule, tossing it into your backpack without taking the time to send it. There's a sense of… urgency now, that you hadn't felt yesterday. A sense of danger in the air. 

You break through into a large clearing, surrounded by tall, dark trees, and your eyes fall on the large blue and red Marshtomp, feeding slowly on the corpse of what appears to be a Scraggy. The amphibious Pokemon looks up at you, before starting to lumber towards you. Churchill disappears from your side, and reappears behind the Marshtomp, wrist-blades extended and glowing bright green. A heartbeat later, a pair of deep gashes appear in the sides of the Pokemon, spurting blood, and it hisses in agony, spinning towards the orange Grovyle. A flicker of movement, and the head hits the ground, closely followed by the body. You swallow against your gag reflex. Churchill's leaf-blades flex, then stop glowing, tucking themselves against his forearms again. He looks at you, and his yellow eyes are cold. “Thank you, Churchill. That was very fast.” If the Marshtomp had targeted Angelica, it could have hurt her badly. 

The Grovyle nods, then gestures around the clearing, before slamming a fist into an open palm. “A fight?” You make your way over to the body of the Scraggy. A few weeks ago, Taylor had mentioned Brian had captured one, and that they had bonded really well. They likely weren't native to the swamp. Your heart sinks as you spot a glint of light off a fake gold chain, hung around the neck of the battered little lizard. Gingerly, you pull off the necklace, putting it into a plastic bag that you had in your backpack. “The Marshtomp didn't do this, did it?” Angelica pads up to the Scraggy, sniffs deeply, and then sits on her haunches, looking at you for a long moment, tail whipping slowly back and forth. She lets out a mournful noise, halfway between a howl and a bark.

“Is that a no?”

Angelica gives a happy bark, then goes into a perfect point – which you had definitely not taught her – at the sun, which is coming up over the trees and shining into the clearing. Then she barks, very deliberately, three times. Is she? 

“Three days?” The Houndoom gives another happy bark. “Clever girl.” you chuckle, then turn back to the clearing. Now that you're looking, you can see that the ground is torn up and scarred in areas, deep furrows and gashes in the short grass and earth. There was definitely a nasty fight here. A glint of purple catches your eye, and you walk over to a shallow depression. There, in an imprint of itself that would have almost been comical had the occupant not decomposed into stinking purple ooze, were the remains of a Sableeye, gem-eyes shattered into countless amethyst shards. “Shit.” Yeah, no doubt about it. Brian had been here, and he was down at least two Pokemon. “Angelica, we have to find him.”

The Houndoom barks, and runs towards the edge of the clearing. You follow at a jog, weaving around bushes, ducking under branches, desperately trying not to slip in slick mud. You're heading downhill, now, getting closer to a stream that flows into the ocean. The air smells of rotten plants and seasalt, until you come out of the woods and nearly trip over Angelica, who is standing rigidly, growling, staring at the Pokemon floating inches above the grassy bank of the stream. 

The Malamar is huge, with a body easily taller than you and a set of six thick tentacles waving in the air like hair, set above a pair of glowing blue eyes. It has a razor-sharp beak, and the two arms coming off its mantle are easily ten feet long and covered with suckers. Behind it, lying on a long mound of dirt and grass, is Brian. Even from here, you can see that he's in bad shape, his face and head badly burned, with a mangled hand and foot, his clothes torn and ragged. He's still breathing, though, but it's slow. You still have time. The Malamar eyes you cautiously, eerily intelligent eyes seeming to pierce right through you, odd lights flashing on and off in flickering patterns on its body. 

There's a rustle, and from the reeds upstream emerges an Onix, concrete gray, and easily six feet long. A small one, fortunately, but its open mouth is still large enough to bite your head completely off. On its head rides a small red and black cat, a Litten. Both of their eyes are glowing the same blue color as the Malamar's, and as you watch, the Onix slithers up to the psychic squid and coils around it protectively. Your gut sinks, as a few things click. The Malamar had encountered Brian in the clearing, or lured him there, and had taken control of his Pokemon to kill the Dark-types it couldn't control, before capturing him for some reason. Given his burns… He was attacked with his own Pokemon.

You glance over at Churchill, then stroke Angelica's back, before summoning Gaius, Acey, and Tully from their capsules. “Ok, guys, we've got a fight on our hands.” The Malamar gestures with its tentacles, and a shimmering pink barrier appears in front of it, then another, then another, each one distorting the trio of Pokemon more and more. You grit your teeth. This was going to be nasty. 


	18. Chapter 18

You eye the Malamar where it hovers behind the broad rectangular layers of pink Psychic energy. It has a knowing look in it's eyes, a cunning look. You don't trust it. The barriers are broad enough that they also protect the Onix and Litten, so unless it sends them out, you'll need to flank the barriers, or batter them down. Another glance at the glowing blue eyes, and something tells you that it won't hesitate to send them out. They're minions, disposable. So… Timing. You keep your voice low. “Churchill. When the barrier goes down, kill it. Keep moving, don't let it lock onto you.” The Grovyle nods, his wristblades flexing. “Angelica, when I tell you, Smokescreen so it can't see, then use Blowtorch to take the barrier down and ignite the...” Your voice trails off as your eyes fall on Brian, still lying prone behind the Malamar. _Shit_. He's in range of the blast from Smokescreen's ignition. “New plan, Angelica. Use Crunch to bring down the barrier, and then try and take down Malamar with Blowtorch. Keep moving.” Angelica barks in agreement.

“Gaius, take down the Onix. Hurt, don't kill.” Gaius rumbles, and starts to lurch forward. “Angelica, Churchill, go!”

In a blur of orange, Churchill flanks the barrier to the right, before leaping over a ball of flame launched by the Litten, lunging at the Malamar with a leaf blade. The psychic squid sways out of the way, only to visibly stagger as a massive pair of black energy jaws shear through three layers of psychic energy like a knife through rice paper. Angelica lunges through the dissipating shards of energy, aiming for the squid, but Brian's Onix moves to intercept, eyes glowing blue. The stone serpent coughs up a boulder the size of a bowling ball directly at your Houndoom, but she dodges, so the ball only grazes her rib armor. Still, you hear a sharp crack and Angelica whimpers and stumbles. “Tully, Gaius, get that Onix!”

Gaius's armored head glows, and he drops into a charge that lands on the Onix's side with a visible shockwave of displaced air, sending the rock Pokemon flying, directly into a leaping bicycle kick from the Riolu that lands under its chin and knocks it back, far further than a kick from the diminutive dog-sized Pokemon should. The glow in the Onix's crystaline eyes fades, and it collapses to its side, unmoving. The Malamar hisses in fury, and it lashes one of its tentacles, sending a massive arc of razor-sharp pink energy at Gaius and Tully, only to take a massive gash to its mantle from a sneak attack from Churchill. The arc of energy barely scratches Gaius's armor, but catches Tully across the chest, and he goes flying, blood spurting from the massive wound.

“Tully!” you scream, and pull out his Capsule, running over to the Riolu and hastily returning him to his ball. The stasis should keep him from dying before a clinic… But from what you saw before he disappeared in red light, you can't pull him out before then. Glancing over, you see Acey trembling, staring at the brawl. “Acey! Thunder wave!” Churchill and Angelica jump clear as the Pikachu gathers energy, before releasing a massive cone of yellow-white static at the Malamar. Litten darts toward Acey, ducking around and avoiding most of the blast, but a few arcs of energy lick out and cause the diminutive firecat to stumble. Without even thinking, you move to intercept, and kick the Litten, sending it rolling. It doesn't get up, and you look back to the Malamar.

The squid is trembling, electricity arcing over its body, beak gnashing with fury. Blood seeps from a handful of wounds, a gash on its mantle and a bite-mark on its left tentacle most notable, but it's still floating. Churchill is breathing heavily, one clawed hand resting on his ribs, and Angelica is limping, but your Pokemon are still standing. The beaked mouth seems to snarl, and the Malamar raises both arms in front of its mantle, cupping the broad fins on the end together. There's a humming noise that rapidly grows into a grating shriek, and you clap your hands over your ears. The howl only gets worse, it's in your head, growing louder and louder, like the howl of a circular saw going through a massive steel block. Your head is pounding, eyes watering, and you can barely see Churchill and Gaius staggering.

Angelica lunges, but the Malamar drifts out of her way, a glow of oily rainbow light growing between its flippers. The squid raises the orb of light above its head for a moment, meeting your eyes, before releasing it. The orb explodes, sending a semi-circular shockwave of disgusting, oily light that sends you flying backward, tumbling. You crash into a tree and see stars for a moment. Everything hurts, like sandpaper across your skin, and you can feel blood seeping through the shirt of your stomach. Angelica howls, and then there's a roar like a furnace and a flare of brilliant blue-white light, followed by a shriek of rage and pain. Squinting, you look at the battle, and see Angelica, a three-foot long cone of blue-white flame pouring from her jaws like a flaming sword, standing on Malamar's prone form, slowly bringing the fiery lance down on the squid-pokemon's head. “Angelica! End it!” You bellow, and with a twist of her neck, Angelica drags the lance of flame across the Malamar's neck. The nest of tentacles thrash aimlessly, curling and uncurling, and the light fades from its eyes, before it goes completely still.

Slowly, gingerly, you push yourself to a sitting position against the tree. Your gut burns, and you look down. Your shirt is soaked red with blood. Fumbling at your pants pocket, you pull out the Pokepedia and pull up the video chat app. A tap of the emergency button, and within seconds, Ethan's face appears on screen. “Rache-Wha-” He shakes his head. “Sending a team to your location, stay with me, kid.”

“Found 'im.” You say. It's oddly hard to talk. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and it comes away bloody. “Malamar got 'im. 'es alive. Malamar's dead.”

“Attagirl.” Ethan says soothingly. He turns his head to someone else in the room. “I need medical retrieval team six, sent to these coordinates. Two trainers down.” Your instructor looks back to you. “Rachel, can you return your Pokemon to their capsules?”

“Churchill dun' like it.” That's oddly important right now. The Grovyle shakes his head by your side, grabs a pair of Capsules, and returns Gaius and Acey to their balls. They haven't moved since the massive psychic attack. Another flash of red light, and Angelica vanishes. There's a cool, scaled hand on your shoulder, and then Churchill picks up his own Capsule. “T'ank you.” You mutter.

“Thanks, Churchill.” Ethan says, after a long moment. “Keep her safe.” You see the orange Grovyle nodding out of the corner of your eye, but everything is wavering in and out of focus now. You cough, and feel blood dribbling down your lips. “Stay with me, kid.” Ethan pleads. “Just a few more seconds.”

You smile. “'s ok. 'm fine.” The last thing you see are flashes of white light, as tall figures appear around you. Smiling, you let yourself drift into darkness.

“get that Grov… out of here!”

“severe …nal bleeding”

“...psychic tissue damage!”

“cells… rupturing… intestines, lungs.”

“HEAL PULSE!”

“Stabilizing… bleeding reduced...”

“Take…...to surgery...”

There's a hand holding yours. You squeeze it. It squeezes back. Everything hurts.

There's light in your eyes. Groaning, you blink them open, and stare at the ceiling. It's plain and bare, white panels and flourescent lights, currently off. The light is coming from a window, the rising sun shining through white curtains. You're in the PRT hospital.

“Finally awake.” Your eyes dart over to Ethan, who's sitting in a chair by your bed. He's shaved, and wearing an official dress uniform. He looks… better. Less stressed than the last few times you've seen him.

“How.” You croak, voice cracking, and the instructor hands you a cup of water with a straw. After a sip, your throat feels better. “How's my team?”

“Knew you were one of the good ones, Rachel.” Ethan smiles. “They're fine. The Riolu was touch and go for a bit, and both the Lairon and the Pikachu had some internal damage from the Psywave that almost killed you, but they're fine now.”

“Angelica? Churchill?”

“They're fine too. They are in their capsules, hospital regulations.” He shook his head. “That Grovyle is scary. Damn smart, only took a little explaining before he agreed to storage.” Ethan sighed.

“Brian?”

Ethan sighs and leans back in the chair. “Not great. He's got some nasty burns on his face, likely lost vision in one eye, and he's down to his index finger and thumb on his right hand. We had to amputate his left foot as well.”

Your gut sinks. “I was too late. Wasted too much time.”

“Don't you fucking start that shit.” Ethan snaps, leaning forward. “All of those injuries were at least three days old by the time we started treating him. Do you know what the Malamar wanted him for?” You shake your head. “Damn things like fresh meat for their nests. The female build up large nests, lay lots of eggs, and then capture live prey, so their young have something fresh to eat when they hatch.” You shudder. “You know when those Inkay hatched? An hour after you were 'ported out. You saved him from being eaten alive.”

You manage a weak smile. “Good.”

“And now, since you haven't managed to ask about yourself, I suppose that I can tell you that the Malamar used an attack that ripped apart a huge number of cells in your abdomen, causing internal bleeding. We got it fixed, but you'll need to take it easy for a while. You were in a coma for nearly a week” Ethan smiles. “And kid, I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” You look down at the IV stuck in your arm. “Any idea when I can get out?”

“Nope.” The instructor chirps. “I'll let them know you're awake. Come see me when you get out.” He turns and leaves, whistling happily.

The answer to your question, it turns out, is three days of testing, healing, and boredom as doctors and nurses run test after test, ranging from MRIs and CT scans on your torso to mental health checkups. When you're finally released, your abdomen is still tender when you twist or bend, but you can walk easily. Your first stop, after a quick meal, is a park where you can summon your Pokemon. Angelica first, of course, and the Houndoom is thrilled to see you, bouncing and barking happily, licking your face as you vigorously scratch and pet her ears and cheeks.

“I'm happy to see you too, girl!” You chuckle, sitting down in the grass underneath a tree. “You ok?” Angelica barks happily, before settling, her brows furrowing. She growls, lunging and snapping at a point in mid air, before looking to you. “Yeah, you got her. And I'm ok. We survived, so we can train and get better.”

After summoning the remainder of your squad, you smile at the group of happy Pokemon. Tully has a long, white scar bisecting his fur from right shoulder to left hip, but otherwise, you're no worse for wear from your encounter. “We did it, guys.” Angelica huffs. “And girls. Brian lived, we survived, and we took down a nasty Pokemon hard.” Churchill nods slowly, then slams a fist into an open palm, Tully mimicking him. “Yeah, we need to work on some things. Need to get stronger, need to work together better, need to round out some weaknesses.” Churchill nods. “Ok, but for now, I need to talk to Ethan, so it's back in the Capsule for most of you. Churchill, Angelica, you're out with me.”

The park is only a few minutes away from the PRT office where Ethan asked you to meet him, but it's the first time that Churchill has been out of his Capsule while he's in town. The Grovyle's head darts back and forth, the long leaf crest bobbing like a long ponytail as he tries to take in everything. “Thanks for the help back in the Mires, Church.” You state, finally. He shrugs. “I'm going to need your help, but I'm going to help you too. Ethan may have a way to help us communicate better as a team as well.” The Grovyle nods, his hands rising briefly, before he winces and lowers them back to his sides. “Yeah, charades and gestures only go so far, huh?” You chuckle, and Churchill joins in, giving a snickering hiss.

Before long, you're knocking at the door of Ethan's office in the PRT building, and he welcomes you in. It's larger than the one at the Trainer School, and you sit on one side of the broad desk, Angelica and Churchill flanking you. Ethan leans back in a large swivel chair behind the desk, his hand and hooked prosthetic laced together. “So, you've discovered the big unspoken secret.”

“Pokemon are people too.” You state, and Churchill's head snaps over to you as Ethan winces.

“Nooot exactly.” The officer states. “More like, some of them have the capacity to become sapient. Some are more likely to be sapient than others, humanoid Psychic types almost always get there, but most Pokemon species almost never demonstrate sapience.”

“And you keep this a secret?”

Ethan sighs. “Yeah. I'm not sure I agree, but I see the logic. The brass higher up think that advertising that some Pokemon are sapient, thinking beings will make people less cautious, think that some Pokemon can be reasoned with.” He leans forward. “The hard truth is that even sapient Pokemon can and will attack humans, and are often even worse than the ones that are just animals.”

Churchill glances back and forth between you and Ethan, then taps an index claw on the table, before putting his claws behind his head and wiggling his fingers. You giggle a little, and Ethan boggles. “The Malamar?” You ask. The Grovyle nods.

“Yeah, they are some that almost always wind up sapient after they evolve. What that one did… Well that takes planning and higher thought, at least by my reckoning.”

Your gut sinks. “So… The Malamar was a person?”

Ethan sighs. “Yeah, most likely. The Golurk you captured was sapient as well, they've managed to get him cooperating and learning sign language out in Roswell. The thing to remember is that sapient Pokemon don't think like humans, they have different drives and needs, and often think in extremely odd or unusual ways.” He looks at Churchill. “Churchill, I have never heard of any second stage non-psychic Pokemon thinking or behaving like you do. To be frank, you scare me. I like Rachel, and I don't want you to hurt her. On purpose or by accident.”

The Grovyle nods slowly, his eyes going from Ethan to you. He places a hand on his chest, gestures to you, then slams a fist into his palm, before crossing his arms in an x. Another gesture to Ethan, and then he repeats the fist slamming and crossed arm gesture. A broad circular motion, indicating everything around him, and then he repeats the same gesture. Ethan glances to you, baffled.

“He's saying that he's not going to hurt me, or you, or the town, I think.” You state after a moment of thought, and Churchill nods.

Ethan eyes the Grovyle for a long moment before nodding. “I'll believe that. Still, the law is that a human trainer must have the Capsule for any Pokemon in their team, so that they can be recalled and stored for Pokemon-free areas, unusual behavior or aggression, or in case of other emergencies.” Churchill nods in understanding, before making an odd gesture where he grips his wrists in the opposite hand, before clutching them around his neck, then pointing to his Capsule at your waist, and then making the circular motion that he used for Brock town. Ethan winces. “Ah. Well, That's...” He sighs. “Look, I don't make the rules, kid. Lizard, whatever. And it can be very difficult to determine which Pokemon are safe in public. I trust you. But the law has to apply to everyone.”

Churchill shrugs, then nods.

Ethan sighs. “Anyway, I'll have a Pokemon Sign Language primer sent to your Pokepedia. Study it together, it should help you communicate a little better. You've got medical and training leave for four weeks, and then we'll need you back in the field.”

“Got it. Thank you, Ethan.”

“My pleasure. I'm looking forward to what you get up to next.” He grins. “If my heart can take it.”

“I'll try to make it entertaining for you.” You reply with a smile. “I'll talk to you later.”


	19. Chapter 19

1503\. You stare at the room number, embossed in brass on an old wooden door, and grit your teeth in a grimacing smile, before gingerly knocking on the door. There's a long moment, but when the door swings open, your expression shifts into a more genuine expression. “Taylor! I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.” 

The tall girl, dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, smiles weakly in response. “He's finally awake, of course I'm here.” She steps back, and allows you to enter the hospital room. It's old, of course. Brock Town Memorial Hospital, is one of a handful of buildings that managed to survive the Event mostly intact, and rather than demolish and rebuild, the early Brock Town city council chose to refurbish it. Still, it's clean, and the broad windows let in cheery morning light from over the Bay. 

Brian is lying in an adjustable bed, propped up so he can easily read a book, off-white blankets covering him from the waist down. He looks up at you and grins broadly. White bandages still cover his right eye and most of the top of his head, but he seems cheerful. He waves a bandaged hand at you, only his index finger and thumb free from the wraps, concealing the stumps of his remaining fingers. Your eyes are drawn to the blankets at his feet, where his right leg ends abruptly at mid-calf. “Good to see you, Rachel. I'd get up and shake your hand, but...” He trails off with a wry grin. “I hear I have you to thank for the rescue.”

Wincing at his joke, you smile. “I'm sorry I couldn't get there any sooner. You were in deep.”

“Too deep. I got cocky.” Brian sighs. “And my team paid the price.” 

You pull out a pair of Capsules from your cargo pockets, and set them on a bedside table. “Not all of them. The PRT recaptured the Onix and Litten, asked me to bring them by when I get your information.”

Brian sighs again, watching the Capsules as they gently rock on the table. “I...” 

“I get it.” Too raw, too fresh, too much of a decision to make right now. “I killed the Malamar.”

“I know. Thanks.” A weak smile. This is going about as well as you expected.

The door opens behind you, and you hear sneakers slapping against linoleum, before you're hit by a flying tackle! “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU~!” You stagger and manage to turn in the grip of a sobbing, yelling, bedraggled mess of a young black girl. 

“Aisha! She was hurt too!” Taylor yelps, hopping to her feet from where she had been sitting awkwardly by the wall. 

“It's ok.” you choke out. It's not, you're still a little tender, but… You smile, and there's no forcing it this time. “I told you I'd get him out.”

Aisha looks up at you, grinning broadly, despite the tears still leaking down her cheeks. “Most of him.” She glances over at Taylor, wipes her face with the back of her sleeve, and the grin morphs into a leer. “The important parts, anyway.” Taylor blushes fire-engine red, and you snort. Brian's sister looks back to you, and hugs you again. “Thank you. Seriously.” 

“Any time. Now let go.” You growl, and Aisha backs off, before spotting the Capsules on the bedside table. 

“Johnson! Goner! You brought them back!” She cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Brian, I have dibs.”

“Dibs.” Brian deadpans. “On my Pokemon.”

“You know you're not going back out, and I graduate from Trainer School in a few years. I want them.”

“I didn't say I wasn't going back out.” Brian scowls. 

Aisha shakes her head, fists planted on her hips. “You're a hook and a Hawlucha away from being a pirate, Brian, and you know it.” She smirks. “Besides, you have Dad's gym.”

The injured teenager seems to deflate. “How can I just fill in his shoes like that?”

“'Cause you're good at it, bro?” Aisha sits on the edge of Brian's bed. “You know how you and YoYo hit it off, once you picked him up. You're a good fighter, a hard worker, and the best big brother.” She gives him a light hug, and he gingerly pats her head with his intact hand. “You're also a bonehead and don't think things through, which is why I'm here.”

Brian levels a glare at his sister. “Aisha, you nearly caught the apartment on fire by playing 'fireball tag' with Goner.”

She shrugs. “I'm thirteen, whatcha gonna do?”

“You little hellion.” Brian chuckles, and ruffles her hair. “I'll think about it.”

Taylor sidles over to you. “Thank you, Rachel.” On closer inspection, her eyes are puffy and red from crying, but she smiles softly as she gives you a brief hug. “I don't know what I can do to repay you.”

“Make up with your dad, before it's too late.” Shock, betrayal, rage, shame, and finally, acceptance flit across the slim girl's face, before she grudgingly nods. You glance over at Brian and Aisha, quietly talking to each other on his hospital bed, and smile faintly. “We have a dangerous world, Taylor. I don't have anyone to miss me, really, but you should cherish everyone you've got.”

The dark-haired girl wraps you in a long hug, and when she finally pulls back, she's crying again. “You've got us. Stay in touch. Please?”

“I will.” Glancing at your watch, you sigh. “I have some training I need to do.” 

“Take care, Rachel!” Brian states. “Anything you need, call me. I owe you one.”

Excusing yourself with an admittedly awkward wave, you make your way out of the hospital building, to where Churchill and Angelica are waiting at the entrance, in a small ornamental garden by the broad double doors. The Grovyle is lounging on the low branch of a massive willow tree, Angelica curled up at the base of the tree, and intently studying your Pokepedia, a pair of bulky over-the-ear headphones connected to the device allowing him to hear the instructional video on Pokemon Sign Language. Over the past week, Churchill had devoured the videos, and was picking up a signed vocabulary remarkably quickly. Oddly enough, while he understood the concept of written text, and you had gone over the alphabet with him, he was simply unable to grasp the written word. Some barrier prevented him from recognizing even the simplest words, and he had given up out of sheer frustration. 

The Grovyle looks up when you step closer, and his hands flit in a simple {Hello}.

“Hey, Church. Ready to go?” Angelica leaps to her feet and darts over to you, licking your hand. You laugh. “Looks like Angelica's ready.” 

{Yes.} Churchill agrees, brow furrowed in concentration as his nimble claws twist into unfamiliar shapes, a tap on the wrist, mimicing a wristwatch, and then a pair of arm-curls, like lifting weights. {Time training?} 

“Yep. We're going to do a crash course on teamwork while I break in Solosis. Would you like to take Tully and Acey under your wing, so you can give them orders in the field?”

Churchill's eyes light up, and he hops out of the tree, Ariados pendant bouncing on his narrow chest. He slams a fist into his open palm, and nods eagerly. {Yes! Train strong!}

“Yes, I bet you will.” You start walking towards the PRT training district, a few blocks distant. “There's a doctrine of warfare that was developed back in the 1940s by some rather despicable people, but it worked to great effect and changed the way we fought for decades. They called it Blitzkreig, or Lightning War.”

The Grovyle mulls over the thought for a few minutes as you walk, before grinning around his cigar-like twig. {Fight fast thunder!}

“Hit 'em fast, hit 'em hard, and don't give them time to fight back.” You agree. The reptilian grin grows wider. “So, how does Team Blitzkrieg sound to you, Church?”

A slammed fist into an open palm can sound remarkably like a thunderclap, if it's done hard enough.

Two weeks later, you find yourself at the entrance to Old Brockton once again. This time, though, you're alone, and planning to roam in the areas relatively close to the PRT presence in the area. You squat low, and scratch Acey behind her long, black-tipped ears. “It's ok, Acey. I'm not leaving you here.” The Pikachu had started trembling as soon as you released her from the Capsule, although Tully was excitedly yipping and jabbering, looking at the tall, ruined buildings. 

[TERMINATION]

[INEVITABILITY]

“Solosis, we're going to be fine.” You retort, glaring at the floating Pokemon. The Psychic Pokemon is a green bean-shaped ball, not much larger than a football, surounded by a thick layer of protective gel. A pair of eyes and tiny mouth are set into the cell-like body, and an odd red organ that strangely resembles a hairbow floats in the gel. The Pokemon was useful, with a fairly powerful Barrier that it could use to protect the team or itself, as well as some powerful telekinetic abilities, but in terms of personality… Well, it left a lot to be desired.

[NEGATION]

[RESIGNATION]

“You'll see. Church, you ready?” At the Grovyle's sharp nod, you start walking, surrounded by your entire team, between a pair of dilapidated skyscrapers. You've got your camping gear, so you can hole up if you need to, and a full set of medical supplies, just in case, and you are looking forward to seeing what your new team can do.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note, due to AO3 not having invisitext, Sunshine's dialogue is translated inside angle brackets, <>. The translation is not truly heard, what Rachel 'hears' is inside square brackets [ ], with tone indicated by the translation.

[MORTALITY]

[INEVITABILITY] <“We're gonna diiiiie..”>

“You are just an absolute ray of sunshine, aren't you?” You snark at the Solosis bobbing in your wake. Your team had been walking west for a little over an hour, and the Psychic Pokemon hasn't stopped grousing telepathically since you began. It was honestly tempting to just put it back in its Capsule, but… By your side, Churchill and Tully scanned the tops and sides of the apartment buildings in this section of Old Brockton, looking for threats. Gaius lumbered a little ahead of you, Acey perched on his back, nose and ears twitching. Angelica lopes ahead, snuffling at the ground in places, scouting for trouble, before trotting back, tongue lolling. No, it wouldn't be right. She's just trying to make a place in the team. “You know what, that's what I'm going to call you. Your name is Sunshine. How's that?”

Solosis zooms around in front of you, the flat eyes set into her nucleus-like brain staring into yours.

[INQUIRY?]

[DESIGNATION?] <“W-What did you call me?”>

“I'm going to call you Sunshine. Would you like that as your name?”

[DESIGNATION]

[SUNLIGHT] <“M-My name is Sunshine...”>

You wince, as your mind fills with the sensation of intense light, the mighty power of a massive nuclear furnace, washing over a planet, burning and scorching, each photon contributing energy, but ultimately accelerating the inevitable decay of matter, roasting earth and bleaching bone as the solar system whirls towards entropy. The feeling ends, and Solosis spins in place, looking away from you, tilting as it looks down.

[apathy] <“Not that I care.”>

“Yeah, I think you like it.” If she had fingers, you suspect Sunshine would be poking them together as it shivers in place, not looking at you, before slowly turning back.

[RESIGNATION]

[ACCEPTANCE] <“Well, if you insist, I _guess_ it's ok.”>

“Whatever you say, Sunshine.” You smirk, and gently pat the little Pokemon's gel-covered body. Sulking, the Solosis slowly floats over to a position just over your right shoulder.

Beside you, Churchill rolls his eyes, before he freezes, pointing to the top of an apartment building. Acey hops off Gaius's broad back, and her cheeks spark with electricity, yellow fur standing on end. Churchill's fingers flick, {There, bird!}, and he gives a sharp chirp. With a squeak, the Pikachu leaps ahead a couple of paces, before charging up and releasing a bolt of electricity that swats a tiny bird off the corner of the building in a puff of smoking feathers.

“Attagirl, Acey.” Angelica trots over and picks up the smoking body of the bird – a Fletchling, you think – and drops it in front of the Pikachu, who seems calmer now that she's let off a little steam. “Good eye, Churchill. Any thoughts?”

The Grovyle scratches at his chin, his leaf-blades twitching idly, before looking down at Tully. The Riolu's lobes glow faintly blue, and he yips softly, before pointing off in the distance, further west. {Not far, Bird home.} His hands sketch out a tall building, before he points at one tower that stands above some of the others. It's one of the tallest that still stand in the area, a slender office building, easily fifty or more stories. From the top handful of floors, a twisted mass of trees curl out of broken windows, spreading leaves and branches towards the sun. You can see multiple places where lower panes are missing or broken, and there are scars and tangles of steel beams where another building has half-collapsed into one side. Tully's lobes twitch, his brow furrowed in thought, before he lets out a series of yips and barks. {Tree-bird, dark-bird} Churchill interprets. {Many bats}.

“Well, that sounds like it should give Acey a workout. You want to go check it out?”

The Grovyle grins and nods. {Acey fight good! Good practice!}

You chuckle. “Well, you're certainly looking forward to it. Let's go.” As you walk further west, the buildings get taller and closer together, tangles of debris between buildings casting deep shade over alleys and side streets. In some, enough blown dirt and soil had accumulated that plants were growing in wild hanging gardens. A flight of Taillow soar overhead, but ignore you, heading towards the sea. Without realizing it, you find yourself smiling. It really is a pleasant day.

Harsh caws and a faint rumble of stone that sends a thrill of terror down your spine drop you out of your upbeat mood. Carefully rounding a corner, you relax slightly as you see the squat shape of a Golette, currently being harried by a quartet of Murkrow. The black crow-like Pokemon are swooping and slashing at the animated statue, their beaks and claws glowing with Dark energy before each strike, and they're moving far too fast for the Golette to defend itself. You watch for just a couple of minutes, until the Golette collapses to the floor and crumbles into rocky debris. The Murkrow land on the body, and start picking through the remains, setting shiny bits and baubles from inside the Golette's earthy innards to the side.

“Acey, Thunder Wave.” You whisper, palming an empty Capsule. Acey hops forward, and a cone of electricity explodes from her diminutive frame, leaving the Murkrow twitching and unable to move. It's the work of just a couple of minutes to capture the crows, and as Acey carefully investigates the remains of the Golette, you take the time to transmit the captured Pokemon to your personal storage.

[CAUTION]

[EXPOSURE] <“We're out in the open out here...”>

“Relax, Sunshine.” The Solosis is bobbing and darting around, staying close to you and Churchill. “If you spot something, just put up a barrier and let the others take care of it.”

[VULNERABILITY]

[ARRIVAL] <“B-But my barriers are weak against dark types, what if more Murkrow show up?”>

“Acey's got it handled, don't you?” You coo, scratching the Pikachu behind the ears. She leans into your hand eagerly.

[RESIGNATION] <“w-whatever.”>

A few more minutes of walking bring you to the foot of the towering building Tully had indicated, the trees growing out of the top of the tower casting dappled shadows around the base from the mid-morning sun. The cracked pavement and sidewalk create a spiderweb of thin lines of tall grass, wavering in the slight breeze. You're approaching from the rear, it seems, and as you circle around the west side, you see the tangled remains of a revolving door lie to the side of a gaping entrance way. You look up at the sign over the door, rusting letters hanging loosely from the facade. The Brockton Bay Imperial Hotel, rather than an office building, like you had initially thought. Fishing out your flashlight, you grin down at your team. “Ready to explore?”

Angelica barks happily as Churchill nods. You step into the lobby of the hotel, and flick on the light. The once opulent room is musty and still, the scent of rotting leaves heavy in the air. The beam of light from your flashlight plays over overgrown and cracked marble planters, decades of growth and decay creating a sprawling indoor jungle from the ancestors of ornamental plants. It's dim, the tall buildings surrounding the hotel blocking most of the incoming morning light, but the tall windows would likely turn this room into a greenhouse in the afternoon sun.

You barely take a few steps, heading towards a staircase up higher in the abandoned hotel, when Tully tenses and lunges into the undergrowth, before hurling a small, white fox-like Pokemon into an open area. It looks like a Vulpix, but you've never seen a white one before… The little fox jumps to its feet, yelping in anger and pain as one of its rear feet lands on the tile. The wide blue eyes dart over your party, and as Angelica takes a step forward, growling, the Vulpix lowers itself to its belly, whimpering. Angelica looms over the little white fox, but you catch a glint of something in her eyes… “Angelica, back!”

It's almost too late. As the Houndoom leaps backwards, the Vulpix exhales a cone of freezing cold air, leaving frost crystals crusted on the tile in front of her. Tully barrels out of the undergrowth, landing on the Vulpix's back, pinning her underneath his larger bulk, an arm wrapped around the fox's throat in a chokehold, a glowing palm held inches away from her head. The Vulpix goes limp in surrender, and doesn't resist when Churchill taps it with a Capsule and it disappears in a flash of red light. “That was rather interesting. An Ice-type Vulpix? I've not heard of those before.

Churchill waggled his hand noncommittally. {Saw big one.}

“A Ninetails? With an Ice-Type?”

The Grovyle nods sharply. {Very strong. Kill many brothers.} The tendons on his neck are tense, and his leaf-blades twitch restlessly as he signs.

“Oh.” That… “I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?” Goddamnit, are you going to have to play therapist to your Pokemon? You weren't trained for this.

{No.} The sign, a quick pinching movement with two claws, is curt. Churchill closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, he's more relaxed. {Past. Explore now.}

“Got it.” You take a moment to transmit the Vulpix to storage, before moving your team up a broad marble staircase to a higher floor, where a broad reception desk stands, and further up into the hotel proper. There's not much of interest, really. It seems like the Imperial Hotel was well-looted before being abandoned to Pokemon and plantlife, and anything that would be useful or easy to carry is long gone. You make your way through gloomy, musty hallways, peering in open rooms at ruined mattresses, broken windows, and tattered curtains.

An hour of exploring led you to a double door, made of heavy oak, stained with years. Brushing the dust off a bronze plaque, you read it aloud, aching for something to fill the heavy silence. “Julius Anders Banquet Hall. I think I went to school with a kid named Anders. Maybe his grandfather was important?” Shrugging, you push the doors open. The room is pitch black, no windows to the outside to let in light, and the air is still and stale. The beam of your flashlight plays over the broad hall, long tables with high-backed chairs flanking either side of the doorway, rotting white tablecloths and patinated silverware and plates scattered over their tops. There are fat white candles everywhere, in random clusters on every surface, the floor, table, and chairs all sporting waxy candles. You step inside slowly, Angelica holding a ball of flame in her mouth for additional light.

[CAUTION] <”Be careful. There's something here.”>

“Yeah, something seems off to me too.” You reply. There's a throne-like chair on a small dais at the end of the room, the flickering flames of Angelica's fire casting glinting reflections off the gold inlays and crosses set onto the back of the chair. No, not crosses. You shine your light at the chair proper, and feel your lip curl into a snarl. Swastikas. Slumped in the throne are the skeletal remains of a man in a black suit, a tarnished silver goblet lying at his feet, an iron crown perched on his bare skull. The light catches the walls, and faded red banners, the white circles and black symbols of hatred almost shining. “Nazis. Fucking Nazis.” you spit.

Every candle in the room bursts into blue flame. There's a creak overhead, and you glance up, only to leap backwards as a massive black chandelier crashes to the floor, before hovering back up, spinning to face you, glowing blue eyes glaring at you as the room rapidly heats up. Everywhere you look, beady, evil eyes glare at you from bone-white wax under blue flames. A glance towards the door shows that the Litwick have moved around behind you and are blocking your exit. You've walked into a trap. “Fuck.”

[AFFIRMATION]

[TERMINATION]

[INEVITABILITY] <“Told you we were gonna die.”>


	21. Chapter 21

For one terrible moment, you think about running. About just bolting, dodging the Litwick on the floor between you and the door and _running_ for your life. And then you remember, from the research you did when you saw the Pokemon on the list of known creatures in Old Brockton, that Litwick flames went through walls, and wouldn't burn your flesh, but your mind – some said they burned your soul. And you couldn't run from that, not far enough, not fast enough. You bare your teeth in a growl, and point at the Chandelure, hovering ominously in front of you.  
  
“Angelica! Pursuit, then kill it, Dark moves only! Gaius, Rock Spikes! Churchill, stun and kite, keep the Litwick off balance and off us!” As your Pokemon start to move, your attention turns to Sunshine, trembling by your shoulder. “Sunshine, protect us, as many barriers as you can manage.”  
  
[AGREEMENT] <“G-Got it!”>  
  
A cylinder of greenish energy flickers into place around you, then another, thinner layer appears within it. Outside the barrier, Churchill nods, then whistles. Tully disappears in a blur, glowing blue paws knocking the Litwick off their bases with plumes of pale, waxy flesh, dodging pale blue flames. Gaius rumbles, and stomps one heavy foot on the tile floor. There's a pulse of energy that you feel through your boots, and the tiles erupt into needle-thin spikes of stone, bristling in every direction like an angry hedgehog, absolutely shredding every Litwick sitting on the floor, and sending the crumbling furniture crashing to the floor. Unfortunately, it does nothing to the floating Chandelure, which howls and sends a stream of blue-white flame at the Lairon – and at you, directly behind him.  
  
[NEGATION!] <“NO!”>   
  
The green barriers around you thins, but extends, covering Gaius a split second before the ghostly flames reach him. They buckle, but stand, a psychic shriek of pain emanating from the cell at your shoulder. “I've got you, keep it up!” You bark, gently plucking the Solosis out of the air so she can focus on the barriers protecting you, ablative layers of green flickering madly as barriers pop into place and vanish under the onslaught of fire from all sides. Angelica howls, and leaps out of the darkness, shadows wreathing her body like black flames as she knocks the Chandelure out of the air, before the massive black jaws of her Crunch attack shear off one of its arms in a snarl of twisting metal.  
  
There's a brilliant flash of light and the sound of thunder, deafening in the enclosed space, and as you blink away the light, a red and green blur as Churchill darts around you, physically smashing Litwick and nimbly dodging fireballs. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a dodged fire hit another Litwick, which promptly explodes. Another shriek of tortured, rusty metal, and Angelica snarls in triumph. You turn, and see the Houndoom standing over a battered pile of wax and metal, ghostly eyes snuffed out, spectral flames gone dark. “Good girl.” you snarl. The pale blue light in the room is flickering and dimming, darkening as each candle is snuffed out by paw or claw. The flashes of blue fire on green psychic barriers gradually slows, and stops entirely as a slightly scorched Churchill viciously kicks the final Litwick with a hooked talon.  
You stand, panting, in the middle of a devastated conference room, staring into the hollow eye sockets of a dead Nazi wearing an iron crown, lit by the green glow from an ever-thickening stack of psychic barriers. “Sunshine, we got them. We won.”  
  
[RESOLUTION]  
[INVIOLATE] <“NONE SHALL PASS WHILE I STAND!”>  
  
Nothing happens. Sunshine's beady eyes are unfocused. “Hey, Sunny, we won! You kept us safe.” You poke her, gently, and she shudders, the gel shivering like lime gelatin.  
  
[VICTORY?] <“W-We won?”>  
  
“Yeah, we won.” The barriers flicker and fade, leaving you in darkness. At least, until Angelica sets fire to the Nazi in his peculiarly untouched throne. Dry cloth and wood go up like a torch. “Good show, but please don't let it burn down the tower. We're still in here.”  
  
[PAIN]  
[SLUMBER] <“Ow… Rest now.”>  
  
As Sunshine goes still in your arms, Angelica whines, but sits, staring at the fire, which stabilizes, burning, but not spreading. Gaius stomps his feet, and the spikes of sharp tile shatter into dust, allowing you to stumble to a relatively intact chair. Cradling Sunshine in your lap, you take a moment to just breath. That… could have gone incredibly badly. Tully limps over to you, ears flat and limp, with visible patches of burned fur, and leans on your leg. You scratch him in a spot he likes, between the lobes on the back of his head. Acey hops into your lap, curling around Sunshine, and starts licking a wounded paw. A closer look at Gaius shows that he has visible heat distortions burnt into his steel shell, and you grimace. This… This was way too close.  
  
{Victory is hard.} Churchill signs slowly. He's visibly bruised and battered, and one of his leaf-like tails has been burned away entirely. Swaths of his orange scales are blackened, and you almost laugh, thinking of tigers, before choking it down. The Grovyle sprawls on the floor at your feet, leaning his head back on your knee.  
  
“We survived.” And you feel bad that you're the only one uninjured. You hope that Sunshine is ok. The smart thing to do now is to pull out, rest, bandage your wounded, and make your way to civilization. In the midst of the flame, you see something glinting off the iron crown. Angelica is staring at it, unblinking. “What is it, girl?” The Houndoom stands, and lopes over to the blazing corpse, and gently hooks the crown off the blackening skull. She lays it at your feet, where it lies, smoking. Tully glares at the object, growling.  
  
{Full of energy.} Churchill interprets. Another growl and yip. {Dark, Ghost, Fire.} as you look closer, you can see that a large black gem, set into the middle of the crown, seems to swirl with internal power. {Potential.}  
  
“An evolution stone.” The peculiar crystals, infused with energy by experienced Pokemon, had only been discovered in the last few years, but certain Pokemon, when exposed to the stones for extended periods of time could evolve into new and unusual forms. The PRT would likely be interested in getting ahold of it, but…  
  
Tully stares at the stone, before gingerly picking up the crown, and prying it out of its setting. It fits neatly in his paw, an oblong crystal two inches long, and one across, with simple facets. As he moves it, the light catches within, making the dark stone seem infinitely deep, a spark of fire and energy inside gleaming like a miniature sun in endless night.  
  
Yeah, you kinda want to keep it.  
  
You shake your head, and spend a few minutes giving your Pokemon medical attention. It really could have been far worse than it was, the Litwick were apparently terrible shots. Sunshine is the worst off by far, exhausted by psychic backlash and mental strain, and you wind up returning her to her capsule, so that you can release her later to sleep off her exertions. The other wounds are healed and bandaged easily, and Churchill, although wincing from his wounds, indicates that he is fit to explore further. In all honesty, it takes almost as long to convince Angelica to put out the fire, even after the throne and bones were reduced to ashes, as it does to treat the other Pokemon's injuries.  
  
Needless to say, you're quite shocked when you open the wooden doors to leave the ruined banquet hall and nearly trip over a pair of green, waist-high owls. You freeze, and Angelica steps forward, growling, flame licking up from her glowing black fangs. The owls – Dartrix, you think – hop backwards, eyes wide, but don't make any threatening moves. You glance down at your feet, and see a battered Pokemon, brown-furred, with a matted ruff of paler fur. An Eevee, lying unconcious, the fox-like pokemon's sides rising and falling slowly. The Dartrix spread their wings and bow, before flapping away silently into the dark hallways of the hotels. Kneeling, you tap the Eevee with a Capsule, capturing the… Offering? Gift? Bribe?  
  
“That was weird.” Churchill nods sharply. “You ready to get out of here?” Angelica barks in agreement, and you set off in the opposite direction, making your way out to the lobby, brightly lit by the afternoon sun. It seems safe enough to eat a quick lunch, a meal bar for you and Pokechow for your team, and then you make it out of Old Brockton without incident.  
  
After checking in your Pokemon at the Clinic, you drop by the PRT Canteen and pick up a hot meal. As you sit at the cafeteria-style table, working your way through surprisingly tasty soy 'meatloaf' and mashed potatoes, Ethan slides into the bench opposite you. “So, you have a full team and just broke them in.”  
  
“Hello to you too, Ethan. How are you?” You reply dryly, putting down your fork.  
  
“Peachy. Glad to see our rising star ready to join the big leagues.” Ethan grins toothily, and steals your roll with his prosthetic hand.  
  
You scowl. “Big Leagues?”  
  
“Yep. The bigwigs at the PRT are suitably impressed by your performance, and you're ready to have official Ranger Assignments, as well as the ability to purchase special supplies from the PRT store.”  
  
“Special supplies?”  
  
“Talking in questions now?”  
  
You roll your eyes. “Ok, so I can actually use Trade Credit for something other than Pokemon now, right?”  
  
Ethan takes a bite out of your roll, taking an obnoxiously long time chewing before replying. “Bingo. But you gotta complete one final test mission. And choose a partner.”  
  
“A long-term Partner?”  
  
“Well, at least until you both decide it won't work. It's been known to happen.” Ethan smirks. “How fortunate is it that out of your graduating class, the two Trainers who are also ready to become full Rangers are also the ones you've worked with?”  
  
“So, Taylor and Sarah are both ready? Taylor didn't mention it earlier when I spoke with her a couple of days ago.”  
  
Ethan shrugs, and takes another bite of your roll. “Eh, close enough. They have full teams and have gotten out of tough situations. I dunno if they're ready, ready, not like you are, but we can't afford to have them stuck on baby missions for too much longer.”  
  
You sigh. “I could keep baby missions for a while longer myself.”  
  
Sobering, Ethan props his elbows on the table. “Want to talk about it?”  
  
Over the next few minutes you explain the circumstances from earlier in the day, how you had stumbled into a trap that was blindingly obvious in hindsight and only really escaped because your newest Pokemon had overstrained herself to the point of passing out.  
  
“Kid, you fucked up, just a bit.” Ethan states, after you taper off. “You let your guard down, and it could have gotten REALLY nasty.” You nod, glumly. “But you were good enough to get out of it, and nobody died. And that could have happened, easily.” He sighs. “We make kids grow up too damn quickly these days. But we need you. And you're good enough to pull your ass out of the fire when you inevitably fuck up again.”  
  
“Thanks, Ethan.” You fish the Evolution stone out of your pocket and lay it on the table. “Seen one of these before?”  
  
“Sweet Christmas, that's a Dusk Stone.” Ethan murmurs. He gingerly reaches out and spins the gem on the table. “You realize that there's like, twenty of these that we know of.” He shakes his head. “Twenty one. Blackjack.” He snorts.  
  
You lean back, a bit stunned. “Seriously? I thought that Stones were more common than that.”  
  
“Yeah, well pure evo-stones are not quite so rare, Fire, Water, Thunder, Mind, and so on. Thousands of documented cases for each. Dusk Stones, Moon Stones, and a couple of other types are multi-element, and not as easily predictable.” He nudges the stone back over to you. “There's no telling what that one can actually do.”  
  
“Huh. Glad I pried it out of the dead neo-nazi's crown, then.”  
  
Ethan doesn't stop laughing until well after it becomes incredibly awkward. “O-Only you, kid. Only you.” He wipes away a tear. “I'm not going to sugar-coat it, the mission you've been given is going to be a tough one.”  
  
You nod sharply. “I'm a tough bitch, I can take it.”  
  
Ethan grins, but there's a sad edge to it. “I hope so, Rachel. Our records show that you haven't gone out into the Woodland Hills area. You remember the missions asking for investigation, to see why some of the Pokemon are getting wound up?”  
  
“Yeah, but I wound up looking at other things.”  
  
The instructor grimaces. “Yeah, well they figured it out. A fully grown Onix migrated into the area, set up a burrow in one of the old granite quarries, is preying on the local Geodude rumbles, and generally making a nuisance of itself. The scout teams report that it's a good fifty feet long, and it's got some copper and iron striations, so it needs to go down before it goes full Steelix.”  
  
“Shit. And you want me for that?”  
  
“Yeah. Consider it a graduation exam. Pick a partner, and head out within 48 hours.”  
  
“Will do, boss.”  
  
Ethan leans forward and ruffles your hair, and you scowl. “Good luck, kid.”


	22. Chapter 22

For all that you had grown up in Brock Town, you haven't actually been in this area of the city before. Taylor had asked to meet you at Brian's new gym before heading out to the Quarry to kill or capture the rogue Onix threatening to destabilize the Woodland Hills area. Located in the outskirts of old Brockton Bay, Laborn's Gym was a largish post-Event building in a little shopping district, surrounded by cramped apartment buildings, that also contained a small grocer and open-air trade plaza. Rooftop gardens with the last crops of tomatoes, peppers, corn, and herbs of the season filled the early morning air with the smell of life, and you pull your jacket a little closer to you in the crisp air. You can see why she likes the area, the buildings are well-kept, albeit built in the cramped post-event style, and the people that you see are pleasant, and don't seem to mind you walking with Churchill and Angelica flanking you.   
  
The Gym is an exception to the architectural style, with broad glass windows across the entire front of the building, allowing passersby to view the interior, which has a long mirrored wall reflecting the group of people training. Well, people and Pokemon, actually. This early, it looks like there's a Tai Chi class, with a slender Asian woman, easily in her mid-seventies but smoothly moving from pose to pose with the ease of decades of practice, at the head of an eclectic class ranging from a shirtless Chinese man covered in dragon tattoos, to a pair of Medicham, to – you blink in slight surprise – Aisha, Brian's sister, her expression oddly content as she moves through the poses.   
  
Pushing your way through the door with the jingle of a bell, you glance over to the waiting area, and spot Taylor and Brian, sitting cuddled together on a long bench next to an office. Brian looks much better than he did the last time you saw him. The burns covering his head are still shiny and pink, but he's left them uncovered, and shaved off the rest of his hair, and a simple spring-like prosthetic foot sprawls out in front of him as Taylor leans into him.   
  
“Hey.” You say, eventually, when neither seem to notice your arrival. Taylor jumps with a squeak, and scoots away from Brian. Not too far, her fingers still twined with his. You grin. “Ready to go?”  
  
“Yeah.” Taylor blushes, then gives Brian a kiss on the cheek. “See you soon.”  
  
“See you soon, Taylor.” The scarred boy murmurs, and gives her a reciprocal peck. They get up, Brian grunting as he settles on his prosthetic.   
  
“Later, Brian.” You state, waving as Taylor ducks into a small office and pulls out a large backpack, similar to the one you are wearing, before buckling a belt with six Capsules around her slender waist. She grabs one, which she had customized with a pattern of green curling vines, and summons her Ivysaur, Raid, the squat, toad-like Pokemon shaking herself, broad leaves rustling. “Let's get this show on the road, Taylor.”  
  
The dark-haired girl grins. “Sooner we get there, the sooner we get back.”   
  
Over the course of the next couple of hours, as you leave the city of Brock Town and the patrolled grassy area that acted as a buffer zone between the woodlands and civilization, the pair of you discuss your respective strategies and teams. Taylor is fascinated by Churchill, and picks up some basic Pokemon sign language fairly quickly, although you still need to interpret for her for some things. In terms of her team, the three Pokemon that you were familiar with, Raid, Arwen, and Bugbane, had evolved into Ivysaur, Kirlia, and Talonflame, respectively, and Arwen had a breakthrough upon evolution and was demonstrating sapience, albeit childishly.   
  
“Honestly, she's a sweetie, but she's a bit of a hypochondriac.” Taylor explained. “Kirlia are delicate in general, but she's had screaming fits about splinters, of all things.” A brief pause. “A bit lazy too. It's a little like herding around a six-year-old, but one that can read your emotions like a book.” Taylor grimaces. “And make things explode with the power of her mind.”  
  
“That sounds awful. My Solosis, Sunshine, is a bit of a pessimist, but she's a little badass. She saved my bacon in Old Brockton.”   
  
Taylor had also picked up a Gible from the Trainyard that she had named Nibbler, a Magnemite named Bearing, and, after a lot of thought, had purchased the Misdreavus the two of you had captured months ago back from the PRT. The ghost, which she had named Specter, had bonded remarkably well with your friend. “Honestly, I think she was lonely and starving, which is why she kept bothering the workers. I kind of get that…. The lonely part, I mean.”  
  
“I do too. We've both started making friends, now that we don't have to deal with school bullshit.”  
  
“Yeah...” Taylor trails off.   
  
You nod at the Ranger manning a guard post at the edge of the Woodland Hills wilderness area, and he waves you through. The Ranger's Pokemon, a hovering Accelgor, buzzes happily when it spots Taylor, and moves to float closer to her, only for the Ranger to raise a hand in warning. The bug subsides, and Taylor grimaces. Once you're out of earshot, starting to walk under the trees, you glance over at your partner. “Still got the thing about bugs?”  
  
Taylor makes a face. “They like me. I don't like them.”  
  
“They like you?”  
  
Your partner doesn't say anything for a long while, as you walk along a narrow path, curving off to the northwest, heading uphill to the old granite quarry. It's a long walk, and you're going to need to make camp at least once before you make it to the area. Beside you, Angelica trots happily, sniffing the air, but Churchill is more tense, chewing his cigar and glaring at the trees. He's obviously got bad memories of this place. Eventually, Taylor sighs. “I understand bugs.”  
  
“You… understand them?”   
  
“What they say. I can hear them, in my head. And they're drawn to me.”  
  
“That's… Well, that's hard to believe.” No shit it's hard to believe… But you have a leafy dinosaur that knows sign language and a floating psychic cell with depression, weirdness is irrelevant.  
  
Taylor looks away sharply, frowning.   
  
“I'm not saying I don't believe you. There's a lot of weird shit these days, super-powered animals, that kind of thing.” You smile encouragingly.   
  
The dark-haired girl snorts. “True.” She sighs. “It wouldn't be so bad if they understood me or took orders, but all they do is buzz stuff like 'Queen!' or crowd around me. It's uncomfortable and dangerous.”  
  
“Queen, huh?” You smirk.   
  
{Hive leader, not obeyed?} Churchill signs. {Not understand.}  
  
“If they don't understand her, then she can't tell them what to do.” You glance over at the slender girl walking beside you, her face glum. “But there's something else, I think.”  
  
“Mom.” Taylor whispers. “She was a Ranger, and I was out with her one day. It was a safe zone, but...” She wipes at her cheek with the back of one hand. “There was a Beedrill swarm, it came out of nowhere. They thought she was a threat to me, and I couldn't get them to stop.”  
  
Without thinking, you pull the girl to you in a tight hug. “It's ok.”  
  
“No, it's not.” Taylor spits, but doesn't pull away. “I hate them, ok? I hate them. I know they're animals, but I hear them talking and fucking worshiping me and they killed my mom.” You're absolutely lost. For the next few minutes, you just rub Taylor's back and let her cry, but eventually she pulls away, red-eyed and miserable. “Sorry, Rachel… I just...”  
  
“You haven't told anyone before.”  
  
A watery smile. “Who would believe me?”  
  
“I do.” You state firmly. “You should tell Brian, too.”  
  
Taylor looks away sheepishly. “I don't know...”  
  
You shrug. “Worth a shot.”  
  
She sighs. “Maybe. I'll think about it.”  
  
That'll do. You pull out Sunshine's Capsule and release her to float in her customary position over your shoulder.   
  
[GREETINGS]  
[QUERY?] <“h-hi… What are we doing?”>  
  
“We've got an assignment up to the northwest. I need you to watch our backs. You up to it?”  
  
[AGREEMENT]  
[DESTINATION] <“I guess… Where is it?”>  
  
“A granite quarry a little over a day's walk from here. There's an Onix causing trouble that needs to be taken down.”  
  
[RESIGNATION]  
[TERMINATION] <“Fine. We're definitely going to die this time.”>  
  
“No, we'll be fine, Sunshine.” You grin. “You're watching our backs, after all.”

[gratitude] <“t-thanks...”>   
  
Taylor smiles as she watches the one-sided conversation. “You really do get along well with your Pokemon, Rachel.”  
  
You shrug. “I guess.”  
  
{She listens} Churchill adds, tapping his claw to the side of his head. {And trusts.}  
  
Taylor giggles at your blush, and you grunt. “Let's keep going, we've got a fair amount of walking to do.”  
  
The trees on either side grow thicker and taller as you walk, towering oaks and other hardwoods that you don't recognize, with brush and vines growing up and obscuring your line of sight. It's not oppressive, though, not like the Mires. The atmosphere is less humid and dense, and you're following a clear path, rather than tracking someone over uneven ground. It's the end of August, and the leaves are starting to change colors, giving the forest a majestic feeling. Churchill's orange hide blends right in to the foliage, although he doesn't seem inclined to leave your side.   
  
You do have a brief encounter with a large Butterfree, but a spat fireball from Angelica knocks the insect out of the air before it has a chance to use any of it's toxic wing scales on you. Taking a brief break to send the captured Pokemon to your storage system, you glance over at your friend. “Did it say anything?”  
  
Taylor shakes her head. “No, you got it too quickly. It looked like it hadn't really noticed me yet.”  
  
The Transmitter station chimes, and you pull out the empty Capsule, stowing it in a thigh pocket, before shoving the station back in your backpack. “Good to know.” So it wasn't a psychic effect, it was something that Bugs had to see to recognize.  
  
Only a few minutes later, there's the crash of a falling tree, and you see the canopy shaking, not far off the path.   
  
“Church, check it out! Stay hidden and safe.” You order, and the Grovyle nods, leaping up into a tall tree and disappearing. As he goes, you summon Tully from his Capsule. “Tully, keep close, and look out for hidden Pokemon.” The blue-furred Pokemon yips, and he drops into a loose ready stance, his sensory lobes glowing faintly with his aura. Taylor pulls out a Capsule as well, but doesn't release the Pokemon.   
  
Time seems to drag out, as the sounds of fighting intensify, but it only takes a couple of minutes before Churchill drops out of the tree. {Two Psychics, fight.} He signs, eyes glowing eagerly. {both teleport, slashes, blasts.}  
  
“What kind of psychic Pokemon?” Taylor asks, her brow furrowed.  
  
Churchill mimes an elaborate moustache with his claws, and then indicated a long blade attached to each arm.  
  
“A Kadabra and a Gallade?” You ask. At his nod, you glance at Taylor. “And they're fighting?”  
{Yes. Fighting hard.}  
  
This could be an opportunity. With the Pokemon distracted, wounded, and two full teams of Pokemon available, you felt confident that you could take down the pair of experienced Psychics, which could be quite beneficial to your TC account – or to your team, if you can train them. “Taylor, think we should interfere?”  
  
The girl bites her lip. “It can't hurt to look…” Yeah, she's thinking the same thing.  
  
Carefully, you creep into the brush, following the sound of combat, crashing branches, and odd hums of energy, some audibly sharp, which you hadn't realized was a thing before hand. It only takes a moment before you come to a small clearing, bordered by thin birch trees on one side and a towering hollow oak on another. Debris litters the ground, and one birch is lying on the ground, bisecting the patch of grass. In the clearing, you spot the combatants, and drop to one knee, concealed by some brush, Angelica at your side.   
  
The Kadabra is constantly teleporting around the clearing, only staying still long enough to release a beam of incandescent psychic energy at the Gallade, before disappearing with a pop and a flash of teal light and reappearing elsewhere. The Gallade was far less mobile, but still dancing around the beams or dissipating them with flying slashes of buzzing yellow energy launched from its bladed arms. As you watch, a branch, hurled like a spear and wreathed in teal psychic energy, hurtles at the Gallade from behind, only for the slender figure to teleport to the right without looking, dodging the projectile. Both Pokemon seem uninjured, but that level of energy usage is unsustainable, and neither seem willing to disengage. They don't appear to have noticed you… But that's not a guarantee, with Psychics.  
  
You grin. Yeah, you're doing this thing.  
  



	23. Chapter 23

Hmm… You watch for a moment, as the Gallade drifts out of the way from a ripple of psychic energy. Each movement the Pokemon makes is controlled and graceful, the sidestep blurring into a slash that sends an arc of black energy – was that Dark-type? – at the Kadabra, which blinks out of existence a fraction of a second before the blade impacts. Your mind races. The Gallade is Psychic/Fighting, meaning that it's not as vulnerable to Angelica as the Kadabra… But the Kadabra is too mobile, Angelica will struggle to hit it. And if your gut feeling is correct, the yellow buzz of energy earlier was known as a Fury Cutter, trademark of Scyther and deadly to Psychic types. The Gallade is too dangerous, and has to go down fast and hard.  
  
“Taylor, you get the Kadabra, keep it off us. I'll focus on the Gallade.” You whisper, as quietly as you dare. Taylor pauses for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought, and then she nods slowly. Tully vibrates at your side, but you tap him with his Capsule, returning him to stasis. As much as you hate to spoil his fun, he's a liability here. A slash of blue-white Flying energy sends the top half of a tree toppling in a crash of falling lumber, and you use the sound to cover the sound of summoning Acey. “Church, take Acey and try and keep the Gallade off-balance, don't get hit.” The Grovyle nods sharply, pulling his leaf cigar out of his mouth and molding the stick into a long, leaf-shaped blade that he holds in one claw. “Sunshine, Barriers, as many as you can, keep them off us.”   
  
[CONFIRMATION] <“Got it!”>   
  
Huh, that was oddly cheerful, for her. You turn to your Starter. The Houndoom looks up at you, and her eyes spark with flame. “Angelica. The Gallade.” Her lips start to curl, baring fangs. “_Hurt_.”   
  
Angelica explodes from the brush, wreathed in black smoke and accelerating rapidly as she charges the Gallade. You see his eyes go wide underneath the curtain of green hair, but he spins away from her charge like a matador, only for Churchill to appear in a blur of orange, slashing away rapidly with a glowing green sword. The Psychic Pokemon blocks each strike with a blade-like arm, backpedaling, but keeping his body between Churchill and the massive oak tree at the edge of the clearing. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Taylor's Talonflame harrying the Kadabra, clouds of roiling green spores filling the edges of the clearing. It's definitely distracted. There's a snap of electricity, and the Gallade teleports sideways, away from the bolt of lightning, only to screech in agony as Angelica finally connects with a glancing blow, having looped around from behind with Pursuit.   
  
Roaring in fury, the Gallade teleports away from Angelica's snapping fangs and slashes both blade-arms, releasing a half-crescent of boiling red energy that gouges deeply into the armor on your Houndoom's ribs. As Angelica collapses and your heart leaps in your chest, Churchill leaps into the air, hurling Acey at the Gallade's blind spot, the Pikachu wreathed in a visible aura of electricity. The green and white Pokemon tries to drift out of the way, but his slender leg collapses underneath him, and Acey collides directly with his chest, releasing a blast of electricity that leaves the Psychic Pokemon twitching on the floor. You hurl a Capsule into the clearing, and Churchill snatches it out of the air, slamming it into the Gallade's side, dissolving it into crimson energy. The entire clearing seems to hold its breath as the Capsule trembles, and then explodes, leaving the Gallade standing, trembling in pain and fury, in the middle of the clearing.   
  
In a flash of blue light a branch, as thick as your wrist, appears in the middle of the Gallade's chest.  
  
“SHIT!” You throw another Capsule, and this time, the capture succeeds, sending the mortally injured Pokemon into stasis.   
  
<GraTituDe. CoMbaT wAs BecoMinG IneFFiCieNt.> The voice seemed to insinuate itself into your mind, a flat, inflectionless blend of male and female voices, fading in and out from each other. In a flash of blue light, the Kadabra appears in front of you, fur singed and creased in places, but otherwise unharmed. In each hand, it holds a Pokemon egg, the head-sized eggs patterned in white and light green swirls. Your heart sinks.   
  
“Why?” Taylor whispers beside you.  
  
The Kadabra tilts its head. <ConSumPtIon. A LarGE AmOunt Of EneRgy aT VerY lIttLe Cost.> You feel a little sick. <WheN uNoppoSed.>  
  
It moves to hold out one of the eggs to you. You glance over at Taylor's hard eyes, and try not to wince. <aN oFferiNg. For yoUr VicT-> Misdreavus' grinning face bursts out of the Kadabra's chest, visibly chewing on something, leaving the Psychic Pokemon stumbling, physically unharmed, but obviously deeply disoriented.   
  
“Churchill!” you bellow, and before the Kadabra has a chance to recover, it has a massive gash in its torso, flesh parting like butter under your Grovyle's blade. The Kadabra falls, and Taylor has him in a Capsule within seconds.   
  
The Ralts eggs hover, spinning gently in midair, before Sunshine gently deposits them on the ground, but you ignore them as you grab bandages and medicine from your backpack and dash over to where Angelica lays. She lifts her head weakly as you approach, before you gingerly probe at the wound. It's a long slash, curving from her armored breastbone and ribcage up over the ridge of bone along her spine. The attack had sheared through the tough bone armor, but… You let out a sigh of relief. It hadn't made it through her ribs underneath, the double layer of bone enough to dissipate enough of the energy to save her from organ damage. It takes a couple of heavy-duty regenerative shots – and a lot of bandages and improvised braces to keep her skeletal armor properly aligned, but you think she'll recover fully in time.  
  
Taylor walks up beside you, holding the pair of eggs in her arms. “That could have gone better.” She states, after a long pause.  
  
You sigh. “Yeah.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Want to take a lunch break?”  
  
Silence. You glance up at the tall girl.   
  
Eventually, Taylor nods shortly. “Yeah. And then we need to talk.”  
  
Shit.  
  
Lunch is silent, and awkward, and it seems like any progress you had made with your partner earlier had abruptly vanished. In the end, you return Acey and Sunshine to their Capsules, and ask Churchill to keep a perimeter watch. Angelica is asleep, letting her bones knit back together.   
  
Taylor sits cross-legged, watching you closely. “We nearly let that Kadabra eat baby Ralts.” She eventually states, and you wince.  
  
“Yeah.” No point denying it.  
  
“Why did you want to attack them?”  
  
Ow. “I...” You sigh. “I wanted the Trade Credits. And I thought we could beat them, together.”  
  
“For the Credits?” Yeah, that didn't go over well.  
  
“And I didn't know about the eggs.”  
  
Taylor grimaces, and nods in acknowledgment. “True. I didn't think about why they were fighting, either...” She flops back in the grass. “Sorry.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just… Sorry.”  
  
You lay back against a fallen log and watch Angelica's sides rising and falling as she sleeps. “I'm sorry too. Got greedy.”  
  
Your friend sighs. “It's ok, I guess. And we kept the eggs safe.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“That Kadabra was an asshole.”  
  
You snort. “To be fair, egg-eating is a common biological niche.”  
  
“Still an asshole.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
After a few more minutes in companionable silence, you pull yourself to your feet. A scan on your Pokepedia showed that both the Gallade and Kadabra are critically wounded, but have a possibility of survival, with immediate medical attention. You uploaded the Gallade to your storage system, flagged for medical attention, and Taylor did the same with the Kadabra. The eggs could be stored in Capsules as well, and rather than leave them for predators – especially if there were any more Kadabra around – you and Taylor split them, sending them to storage.   
  
Angelica is still resting by the time you are finished, and you reluctantly return her to her Capsule. She's out of the fight for the foreseeable future.   
  
The next few hours of walking are mostly uneventful, Churchill's speed and Raid's ability to cause sleep and paralysis making swift work of the few Pokemon you encounter. The only problem was caused by an aggressive Scyther, which got annihilated with extreme prejudice by Bane, Taylor's Talonflame. 

As you walk, the forest thickens, then thins, growing steeper as you go. The ground goes rocky, with large boulders jutting up from the grass and brush occasionally, until you come up over a rise and view a long, grassy slope that drops into a granite quarry, the harsh rectangular lines jarring in the natural environment. The sun is setting ahead of you, orange light painting the rock in garish patterns, and you hurry to find a level spot to camp. Before too long, a pair of tents are erected in a level spot, tucked just under the ridge, on either side of a small campfire. Taylor pulled out an insulated pouch filled with thick slabs of vacuum-sealed Swinub ham, and before long, the meat was sizzling merrily in a pan over hot coals.   
  
You give Angelica a slice of the meat, and she eats it quickly before curling up gingerly and going back to sleep. Frowning, you turn back to your meal.  
  
“She gonna be ok?”  
  
“Yeah.” You grunt. You're kicking yourself, feeling guilty for sending Angelica in like that, getting her hurt unnecessarily.  
  
“So, what's our plan for tomorrow?”  
  
You look out over the quarry, letting your eyes adjust from the flame, until you can see the lines of the tone laid out in the light of the moon. It's cut deeply into the side of the hill, creating a long L-shaped depression carved into the hillside with sheer lines of cut stone, the short side stretching up towards the north, and the long side going along to the west. The depression goes deep below the ground, leaving a rectangular hole in the ground with carved slopes of stone leading down each side. Deep inside, you see the glint of moonlight on water, where a pool had collected from rainfall over time. At the far side of the quarry are the ruins of metal outbuildings, but none that you can see appear to be standing or intact. Some are distinctly chewed looking.  
  



	24. Chapter 24

Morning dawned gloomy, with a heavy fog obscuring the depths of the quarry and a flat gray blanket of clouds giving the dawn light a depressing tint. Yawning, you coax the smoldering campfire back to life and boil a little water for some tea. The late watch had been uneventful, but you're still a bit groggy. You and Taylor had stayed up too late hashing out strategy, so you were running on very little sleep, but there was no reason to waste daylight. As Churchill sits cross-legged, basking in the faint sunlight coming over the ridge behind you, you poke your head into Taylor's tent. “Time to get going.” You grunt, and tap her foot. The brunette wakes with a jolt, and you snicker slightly at her bedhead, before returning to the fire, where Angelica is sprawled out close to the flames, basking in the heat. You gingerly check her wounds. They're healing quickly, but she's still in no shape for combat. Sighing, you scratch behind her horns. “Sorry girl, didn't mean to get you hurt.”  
  
Angelica huffs out and rolls her eyes at you, letting her tongue flop out in a doggy grin.  
  
“Yeah, I know, you don't mind, but still, I feel bad.”   
  
The Houndoom barks gruffly, and nips your hand, just light enough to pinch.  
  
“Ok, ok, I'll drop it.” You chuckle, and ruffle her ears, before pulling out some teabags and a pair of tin cups for you and Taylor.  
  
A quick breakfast of hot tea and cold ration bars later, and Angelica reluctantly snuffs out the flame before returning to her Capsule. You check your empty Capsules – three left, after your fourth was destroyed trying to capture Gallade – and toss one to Churchill. Taylor glances over at you from where she's packing up her tent, but says nothing. “Churchill, if you get the opportunity, go in for a capture on the Onix. Wait until it's really hurt or worn down, we can't afford to blow out another Capsule.   
{Understood.} Churchill replies, and stoops down to the grass, where a careful infusion of energy causes a living bandoleer of woven grass fibers to grow. The Grovyle hooks the bag over his shoulder, and tucks the Capsule into the pouch at his hip.   
  
You look up at the overcast sky, then down into the fog-covered quarry, and a thought occurs… “Church, can you clear out the fog and cloud cover?”  
  
The Grovyle glances at the clouds, before tilting his head to the side, thinking carefully. Finally, he nods slowly. {Take time, need to be closer for fog.}  
  
“If we can clear the fog, I don't mind if the clouds come back in.”  
  
Churchill nods sharply. {Yes, can do that.}  
  
After packing away your tent and camping supplies, you and Taylor carefully make your way down the long side of the slope, towards the leveled out area in front of the quarry to the west. With Churchill, Raid, and Sunshine out of their Capsules and by your side, it's a quick, uneventful journey. By the time you reach an abandoned parking lot, it's around 8:30 in the morning, and the sun is higher in the sky, scattered rays of weak light starting to poke through the cloud cover.   
  
Between the rusty, chewed remains of long-abandoned trucks and cars, Churchill settles, cross legged, in a sunny area. He closes his eyes, and for a few seconds, nothing happens. Taylor shifts uneasily on her feet, and then you see it, a faint nimbus of glowing sunlight ticking the edges of Churchill's leafy wrist blades, tail, and head-crest. The light grows, and as it does, the circle of light expands, shifting as the hole in the clouds opens wider and wider, until sunlight blazes down onto the entire quarry through a massive gap in the cloud cover. The fog boils away, revealing the expanses of the vast rectangular hole in the ground, glinting off grey, still water.  
  
[ILLUMINATION]  
[INTENSITY] <“S-so bright!”>   
  
“Yeah...” You whisper. It almost feels like summer.   
  
Churchill opens his eyes and gingerly gets to his feet. He's moving slowly, deliberately, the nimbus of sunlight dancing over his body with each movement. Eventually, he nods, and flicks his fingers. {Done.}  
  
“Great job.”   
  
Taylor eyes Raid speculatively, the leaves on the Ivysaur's broad back angling towards your Pokemon's radiance. “I think I know what I'm doing for my next training cycle.”  
  
You smirk. “It's pretty awesome, isn't it?” Pulling out your capsules, you summon Tully, Acey, and Gaius, as Taylor does the same, pulling out her team. Time to go find a rock snake.  
  
It's pretty remarkable, really, what humanity was able to accomplish. Intellectually, you know that this quarry is actually on the small side for pre-Event excavations, intended to dig out high-quality granite for use in countertops, statues, tombstones, and other stone work, but it still feels immense, the bands of rosy pink and grey stone rising far overhead as you walk lower and lower on a broad slope of carved stone. Here and there, the rusted remains of scaffolding or tools lie in piles, some showing massive chunks bitten out of them. The stone is cracked and chipped in places as well, massive impact craters, or places where stone spikes had been extruded and then broken off. As you round a corner, you spot a small pile of gravel, knocked into one corner, that has the distinctive humanoid face of a Geodude leaning against it, eyes of milky white quartz vacant and staring. The rest of the Geodude is missing.  
  
The pool of stagnant water at the bottom of the quarry, the size of three Olympic swimming pools put together, is gray and cloudy, oddly lifeless. You would have expected at least some Water Pokemon, but there was nothing moving, even the air is still. A broad pathway of stone goes all the way around the pool, and as you come down the slope, you see, cut into the sheer stone cliff opposite you, a massive tunnel, rounded off, but well over eight feet tall and ten across.   
  
“I think we found it.” Taylor whispers, her voice echoing oddly off the stone walls.  
  
“Or its lair.” You comment. “Let's not go in.”  
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Opposite the tunnel, across the water, are a series of smaller cut-outs and caverns, no more than a couple of feet tall. “Look, think there's other Pokemon in there?” You ask, pointing.  
  
Taylor glances down at Arwen, the waist-high Kirlia mincing beside her with an inscrutable expression. “Arwen?”  
  
The Psychic Pokemon tosses her hair, the red horns on her head glinting oddly. <Yes. Cute little scared tired wary cold rockheads.> Her face wrinkles. <And big hungry old digging planning clever hungry there.> A slender limb points at the dark tunnel.  
  
“You said 'hungry' twice.” Taylor states warmly.  
  
Arwen tosses her hair in a pout. <hungry hungry.>  
  
“That's ominous.” Should you go closer to the small tunnels, so that the pool acts as a barrier between you and the Onix, if it comes out, or stay where you are, and not have Pokemon at your back? Yeah, that's obvious now. “I think here is as good as anywhere, we can't risk having Pokemon come out behind us.”  
  
Taylor nods. “Yeah, and it gives us a way to retreat.”  
  
You nod slowly. “Let's give it a little bit, see if the Onix comes out. It's hungry, so it might...”  
  
You and Taylor settle down, sitting in the corner against a high rock wall, where you can easily watch the entrance of the Onix burrow. Churchill meditates, maintaining the Sunny Day technique, circulating an orb of golden sunlight between his claws and reabsorbing it, over and over, getting visibly faster with each repetition. Time passes, and you find yourself dozing in the warm sunlight.   
  
With a jolt and a nudge from Taylor's elbow, you awake. She holds her finger to her lips and points down beside the pool, where a timid cluster of Geodude, the Rock-type Pokemon colored in stripes of rosy pink and grey like the surrounding stone, had ventured out to scoop chunks of granite from the ground near the pool. The living rocks fed in shifts, each one taking turns chewing hunks of rock, all the while carefully watching the massive tunnel.   
  
The earth trembles, the water in the pool rippling in waves. Within the dark tunnel, you see a change in the shadow, growing deeper for a moment, before a pair of faintly glowing purple eyes appear, each one easily a foot across, before the body of the massive Onix slithers out of the hole, rearing up… and up… and up…  
  
“Fuck me.” Taylor whimpers, going pale.  
  
You gulp. The Onix's head is the size of a sedan, and as the mouth opens, showing a sheering beak-like jaw with a barbed rocky tongue that could hold you and Taylor side by side – a thought you could absolutely live without. “I don't think that's fifty feet.”  
  
“Eighty?”   
  
In the bright light of day, you can see bands and swirls of glinting metal, rusty iron and aluminum, blended together in looping patterns, twisted and growing out of speckled granite. It's beautiful and terrifying, a creature the size of a mobile home, the lord of all it surveys. The massive mouth opens, and it rumbles, like rocks tumbling together. The squad of Geodude stand transfixed, but the serpent turns, and with a sinking heart, you realize it's heading for the ramp to the surface – the one you're occupying.  
  
“Churchill, keep him off us!” You bark, leaping to your feet. “Sunshine, barriers, as many as you can. From the front, leave room to retreat! Gaius, Rock Spikes, make a wall!” Churchill extends his leaf blades, which flash with green plant-type energy, before he disappears in a blur of orange and golden light, a forest of stalagmites jutting out from the stone ramp in his wake as Gaius gets to work.  
  
“Raid, Leech seed, tie him down!” Taylor orders. She recalls Bane to his Capsule, and Specter fades out of visibility, taking her own initiative.  
  
At a gesture, Arwen vanishes in a burst of teal light, and reappears on a ledge behind the Onix, before raising her slender arms and releasing a beam of lights, strobing and flashing brightly. It hits the Onix's head without much visible effect, but the geode-like eyes blaze with anger as the enormous snake writhes, rearing up and lunging, far quicker than anything that big should move, and taking a huge chunk out of the ledge. In a flash of teal, Arwen appears behind you. <ANGRY hungry angry confused ANGRY!> She squeals telepathically.   
  
You glare through the sheets of stacked barriers erected by Sunshine, at the Onix, twisting and thrashing, trying to catch the blurred form of Churchill, flashes of green leaving gashes and cuts in the rocky hide, but despite the ease with which the blades slice through rock and stone, the behemoth isn't slowing, only getting madder and madder. “Churchill, disengage, Snipe his eyes!”  
  
_phut phut phut. Phut phut phut_. Looking over, you see Raid launching trios of fist-sized seeds, trailing barbed roots and creepers, over the rocky barrier, to land on the Onix. Each one digs into rocky skin, glowing green and digging deeper and deeper, roots bursting out and constricting stone, making it crumble into powder. The Onix looks at you, and charges, crushing through stone spikes effortlessly. Tully howls, and leaps into the air, bringing a glowing red paw – Fighting type energy, not his typical Aura – down on the Onix's snout, leaving a crater the size of a bowling ball and a pissed serpent. With a flick of its head, the Onix sends your Riolu flying into the wall beside you, forty feet up. He hits with a meaty thud, and falls to the ground, limbs broken and twisted.  
  
“Tully!” You scream, scrambling for his Capsule, and as the Riolu disappears into stasis, Churchill appears on the ledge in front of where he fell, glowing brilliantly with golden light. He spreads his hands, his clawed feet scooting back into a martial arts stance. Clawed arms move in a circle, catching liquid light in orange claws, before cupping together, the light spinning and spiraling in a globe of intense radiance that grows brighter and brighter as the light coating the Grovyle's body flows to the claws held at his waist. The Onix turns, glaring at the light, and Churchill moves, thrusting his claws forward, and releasing a solid beam of light that sheers through the center of the Onix's neck, leaving a hole of molten rock, two feet across, right through its throat.   
  
It tries to scream, and fails, and that's when Raid moves in for the kill. Countless vines and seeds dig into the rocky snake, sprouting and spreading, sapping at its energy. Panting, Churchill joins in, a claymore formed of his stick and gleaming green stabbing and slicing, until the Onix lies in a heap at the base of the ramp. You lob a Capsule at the immobile Pokemon, and it disappears in a flash of red, leaving a heap of collapsing plant matter. Gaius rumbles, and the remaining spikes of rock collapse into dust, allowing Churchill to limp up the ramp.   
  
“Wow.” You had been aiming for Solar Beam, but you didn't expect it to be so… Spectacular.  
  
{Tired} Churchill signs. {Ball please.}  
  
“You want in the Capsule?”  
  
{Home. Rest.}  
  
“Got it. You did great, Church. I'm proud of you.”  
  
The Grovyle smirks, nods, and then vanishes into his Capsule.   
  
Taylor glances over at you, then at the spot in the far wall where the Solar Beam had hit, leaving a molten hole in the wall. “Definitely training Raid how to do that.”  
  
  
  
  
  
The journey home is a blur of exhaustion. Fortunately, it's a short one. With a call, Ethan authorized a Teleport recall, as well as a payout of 150 TC for both you and Taylor, after taking the Onix for research. You check Tully and Angelica into the Clinic, and fall asleep in your clothes on top of your mattress.  
  
The next morning, you wake to a brief message on your Pokepedia.  
  


> Rachel,
> 
> I pulled some strings. Congratulations, you can have up to eight active Pokemon, since you have a powerful sapient secondary to take some of the slack off you personally. Take a couple of weeks and train, then you and Taylor will get another assignment.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Ethan.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to _brightwing on Sufficient Velocity for the awesome fan-art!


	25. Chapter 25

It was oddly nostalgic, being in the Trainyards again. At least, as long as you remembered not to breath through your nose – the reek was just as awful as it was the first time. It's a little odd, though, not having Angelica by your side. She was staying in her Capsule, as was Churchill, and trotting in her place was Mab, her bright white fur almost luminescent in the chemically-laden gloom. This is a training trip, after all, so you have to focus on bringing your rookies up to scratch.  
  
[FILTH]  
[DESOLATION] <“It's so nasty, everything is ruined.”>  
  
“Yeah. Lots of people died, a long time ago, and we couldn't take care of it any more.” You reply, glancing at Sunshine, hovering over your shoulder. With a little training, she had picked up the ability to telekinetically slam enemies into the floor or walls, or hit them with a wave of sheer psychic force. It had given her a little more confidence as well.  
  
[MORTALITY]  
[INEVITABLE] <“Everything dies eventually.”>  
  
Until she starts going on about death, at least. Mab yips, delicately picking her way over the uneven terrain. The snow-white Vulpix is a feisty little thing, clever, sneaky, and manipulative, and you had a feeling that she would grow into the name of the Faerie Queen of Winter quite well. Already, she had helped you capture a passing Noibat, although at least part of that was due to its sheer vulnerability to the sprays of frost she could breath out. You rest your fingers on the capsule at your hip that contains Angelica. Still, despite Mab's obedience and your confidence in her abilities… You miss having the Houndoom at your side.  
  
It's mid-morning, but heavy clouds fill the sky with the promise of rain. The air is cool and damp, just as pungent as it always is in the Trainyards. You're deep into the maze of ruined containers and train cars, marking your route with notes in your Pokepedia occasionally as you walk, and generally keeping an eye out for trouble. Ahead of you, the narrow corridor of rusty train cars opens up into a broad clearing, bare dirt and broken concrete, all churned and mixed together haphazardly. At one side, the top of a crane juts up into the air before twisting over in a curl of broken and rusted metal. You cautiously step into the open area.  
  
[CAUTION]  
[PRESENCE] <“There's something here.”>   
  
“Yeah, I think so.” You look up at the tangled mass of bent metal at the top of the crane, and spot a loose nest of broken timber and branches, obviously flown in from elsewhere. As you watch, a trio of feathered heads peek up over the side of the nest. Palming a pair of Capsules, you summon Tully and Acey to the field. The Riolu, fully recovered from his injuries fighting the Onix, had poured himself into training with Churchill and developed a pair of ranged techniques while you were training Mab and Brutus. The first, Focus Punch, was a blast of compressed air infused with Fighting-type energy, but the second, which seemed inspired by Churchill's method firing a Solar Beam, launched a sphere of Tully's blue-white Aura at high speeds. Acey, on the other hand, was less driven, but Churchill coaxed her into improving her speeds, until she could practically blur out of visibility.  
  
“Ok, Tully, when I give the signal, try and shoot down those Pidgey with Aura Sphere.” You order, and the Riolu nods with an an affirmative yip. He's getting brighter all the time. “Acey, you're the backup, if they get too close, shock them.” Finally, you squat down by Mab, who is vibrating with excitement. “Mab, Icy Wind on the Pidgey.” You stroke her ears, feeling frost melting on your fingers from your body heat. “Tully, go!”  
  
The Riolu howls, and hurls a soft-ball sized Aura Sphere at the nest, sending a trio of Pidgey flapping into the air, calling angrily, before swooping towards your team. Another thrown energy ball hits a Pidgey on the wing, and it tumbles to the ground, landing with a thud. The remaining birds split off, swooping in different directions, trying to approach you from both sides. Tully braces his arm and charges up a larger sphere, which swells to the size of a basketball before launching, sending the little Riolu reeling from the recoil. As the Pidgey swoops around the shot, it explodes, releasing a shockwave of energy that sends the Pidgey out of control! As it flaps madly, trying to recover, Tully leaps forward, knocking the bird out of the air with a rising punch, followed by a heavy slam that leaves the bird dazed on the ground.  
  
You hear a howl of freezing air, and turn your attention to Mab. The final Pidgey is in range, but frost gathers on its wings and grounds it, leaving it to tumble to the ground at the Vulpix's feet. Mab turns and flicks her tails snootily, and you can't help grinning as you capture the trio of birds and transfer them, one by one, to your storage account, feeding your Pokemon treats and scratching Acey behind the ears. The Pikachu leans into your touch, but seems a little disappointed that she hadn't gotten to contribute.  
  
As you pack up the Transmitter and return Tully and Acey to their Capsules, you look out over the broken ground of the clearing. You thought you saw… The earth shakes under your feet, and you tumble to the ground. You grab a Capsule without thinking and release the occupant – Brutus, your new Mudkip. Biting your lip, you resist the urge to swear, as the amphibious Pokemon blinks cheerfully, light glistening off his mucusy skin. “Sunny, what is it?” You yelp, scrambling back to your feet.  
  
[UNCERTAINTY]  
[UNDERGROUND] <“I-I don't know! It's under us.”>  
  
The earth shakes again, and you see a dome of earth push up and burst open a few yards away from you, revealing the dirty brown fur and beady eyes of a Diglet. While the Pokemon were typically referred to as moles, they actually didn't have any legs, moving rapidly through the earth like short worms. This one is fairly large, but not yet ready to merge with two other Diglet and form a Dugtrio breeding unit.  
  
“Brutus! Water Gun!”  
  
The Mudkip gurgles cheerfully, and spits out a narrow, high pressure stream of water that visibly rocks the Diglet back. The Ground Pokemon retreats back into its hole, and with a wet bark, Brutus follows it, his tall vertical fin folding back as he dives into the burrow. You hear the earth move, the hiss of water spraying, and then finally, everything goes still. Striding over to the burrow, you peer down into the darkness. “Brutus?”  
  
There's a muffled yip, followed by sloshing.  
  
“You're stuck, aren't you?”  
  
More sloshing. You sigh. Brutus had a… thing… about holes. Namely, that he loved them. He'd dig into the ground at a moment's notice, but always seemed to forget that he had the tall fin on the top of his head. So, he'd go into the hole, reach the end, and try to back out, only to have the rigid spines lock into place and leave him stuck, spewing out water to try and swim free, and generally making a mess. Honestly, it's kind of adorable, in a derpy way.  
  
You grab Gaius's Capsule and summon him. “Gaius, can you dig out Brutus?” The Lairon rolls his eyes up at you, which you could swear means 'Again?', but complies, sturdy legs and broad head rapidly excavating a hole to swiftly uncover a squirming Mudkip and a lump of soggy brown fur, the Diglet, cored out by a high-pressure Water Gun from behind. Gruesome, but apparently effective. Brutus grabs onto the much larger Diglet's corpse and drags it up to you, wagging his finned tail happily.  
  
“You are entirely too dog-like for an amphibian.” You inform him solemnly, but give the Mudkip a sliver of dried fish anyway. Dog-like, you can handle.  
  
The rest of the trip is moderately uneventful. Sure, you manage to upset a swarm of Zubat, but Acey and Mab keep them twitching and grounded, covered in ice long enough to capture all twelve of the blind bats, and Brutus blunders headfirst into a Baltoy, but his water gun and Mab's volleys of freezing-cold snow knock out the psychic Pokemon before he can muster a counter. Honestly, the most difficult encounter was with the quartet of tiny Joltic on a wide conductive web stretched across a corridor, and with Mab cooling off their bodies so they can't move, and Brutus swatting them out of the web with Mud Shot, it's not a terribly difficult challenge. You even have Sunshine gather up the salvageable web, which will get you an extra 15 Trade Credit, once you turn it in.  
  
All in all, as you walk out of the Trainyards at sunset, nodding to Hana, the Ranger on duty, you're tired, but happy.  
  
Your Pokepedia rings.  
  
You sigh, and fish it out of a cargo pocket. Aisha pops up on the screen. “Brian's in trouble!”  
  
“What.” How did she even get this number? Or a Pokepedia? You check the number, and see it's Brian's.  
  
“Brian is in trouble! There was an underground fight club trying to recruit at his gym and he told them no like a badass and they took him!” The girl babbles.  
  
“Ok, calm down. Did you call the cops?”  
  
Aisha looks sheepish. “I maaaay be trying to avoid the fuzz.”  
  
Not touching that. “The PRT?”  
  
The black girl pouts. “They won't let me keep my Johnson until I graduate!”  
  
“So instead of getting in touch with the authorities, you call me.” You deadpan, even as you hurry towards the gym.  
  
“You saved him last time.” Aisha states simply, eyes starting to water.  
  
Damn it. “I'm on my way.”  
  
  
  
After swapping out your rookies for Angelica and Churchill, and briefing them on the situation, you call Ethan and explain the issue.  
  
“Fight clubs, huh? Yeah, we've heard rumors.” Your handler drawls, and you can hear him scratching his stubble with his prosthetic hand.  
  
“Is it legal?” You ask shortly.  
  
“Technically speaking, it is not allowed to have trainer on trainer combat outside of a match supervised by the PRT.” Ethan states. “Unofficially, we have way too much shit to do to bother with in terms of keeping wild Pokemon from rolling over and wiping out civilization to bother with watching every training match or battle. It's a 'Don't make me come down there' sort of policy.”  
  
“So when a fight club abducts a former rookie trainer?”  
  
“Oh, we're coming down there. I'll get in touch with my guys in law enforcement, see what we can do. Poke-crime is rising anyway.” He sighs. “Puppy would have loved to put the smackdown on some thugs….” Ethan sighs. “Keep me posted.”  
  
  
  
You and Taylor manage to reach Brian's gym at the same time. One window is shattered, glass shards covering the wooden floor of the interior. A Machamp with a pair of push brooms is sweeping up, under the observation of a burly asian man, who had obviously decided to forgo wearing a shirt in favor of showing off his dragon tattoos. Aisha is slumped on one of the benches, crying, the little old lady who had been teaching the morning Tai Chi class comforting her.  
  
Between you and Taylor, you manage to get Aisha calmed down, and the rest of the evening blurs into police interviews, bland noodles, tears, and concern, until you finally get Aisha tucked away in Brian's loft apartment above the gym.  
  
As you come down the stairs, the tattooed man blots out the light of the stairway.  
  
“Do you want to know who took him?” He asks, his voice faintly accented.  
  
“That depends.” You respond. “Why do you want to tell me?”  
The man gives a faint smirk, baring a canine. It is not a friendly expression. “Smart girl.”  
  
“That's not an answer.”  
  
A rolling chuckle. “I knew his father.” his expression twisted. “And they came while I was gone.”  
  
“You know who they were.”  
  
“Fighters, both Pokemon and men. Thugs.” The Asian man sneers. “My father would have called them barbarians, but they are just brutal men, thirsting for pain and blood.”  
  
“You sound familiar with them.” You venture cautiously.  
  
“I was in the club. I left.”  
  
You watch him for a moment. “Why not tell the police, or the PRT?”  
  
“The PRT knows. Even dishonorable combat and death is better than the chaos of the wilderness in their eyes. The Police are weak.”  
  
“And you want me?”  
  
A shrug, muscles rolling and making the dragons writhe, catching your eye. “I chose to make an offer.”  
  
“I don't take offers from strange men.”  
  
The Chinese man roars with laughter.  
  
“I am Kenta. Some called me the Dragon, back in the pit days.” He thrusts out a huge hand, and you take it gingerly.  
  
“Rachel.” You pause. “No nickname, but the girls at school said I was a bitch.”  
  
“A pleasure.” Kenta rumbles, and bares his fangs like the dragons coiling around his chest.  
  



	26. Chapter 26

You keep your expression still as you release Kenta's hand, but inside, your mind is racing. Can you trust him? You want to help Brian, but… Balance haste with caution.   
  
“Kenta, I appreciate the offer, but I am going to have to think about it. Can I get back with you?”  
  
The shirtless man nods. “I will be at the old statue of William Brock at three tomorrow. If I do not see you then….”   
  
“You'll know what I have decided.” You reply firmly.  
  
“Choose wisely.” Kenta states ominously, and turns on his heel, striding away.   
  
You take the stairs back up to Brian's apartment two at a time, barging into the small living area, where Taylor still sat on the couch where you left her, both hands clutched around a mug of tea as she stares into space. You settle in beside her. “Taylor, do you know Kenta?”  
  
The dark-haired girl blinks, turning to look at you. “Tall, muscled, allergic to shirts?”  
  
The snort of amusement escapes against your will. “Yeah, that's him. Lots of dragon tattoos.”  
  
She nods. “Yeah, he's been around forever. I get the impression that Mr Labourn knew him. He helps clean up sometimes, but we've never spoken.”  
  
“What's his reputation?”  
  
Taylor sips at her tea. “Scary.” She glances at you again. “You know that there used to be gangs around here a few years ago?”  
  
“No, I lived on the other side of town.”  
  
“Yeah, just a couple of shakedown and protection schemes, but still an issue. People were getting scared.” Another sip of tea. “Then Kenta showed up. He never did anything, but the threats just… stopped.”  
  
“And he didn't ask for anything? Make demands?”  
  
“No.” Taylor frowns. “Why?”  
  
You sigh, measuring your response. “He knows where Brian is.”  
  
Taylor freezes, then gently sets down her mug. “He knows.” her hands start shaking, and she clutches them together. “Where?”  
  
“Don't know.” You reply with a shrug. “He wouldn't say.”  
  
Your friend scowls, light glinting off her glasses. “He'll tell me.”  
  
You can't help laughing. “Taylor, no offense, but you're a skinny sixteen year old, and he's a giant Asian Adonis covered in dragon tattoos. You can't make him talk.”  
  
The girl bristles, then subsides. “Fine. We're going with him.”  
  
You raise an eyebrow. “Ethan said he had it handled.”  
  
The glare that Taylor shoots you has you wincing. “They don't know where he is, Kenta does.”  
  
“You don't know that.” You retort, but your gut says she's right.  
  
“If they knew, they would have gotten him out!” Taylor insists, half yelling, before snapping her jaw shut angrily. The pair of you spend a long minute, sitting in silence. “Where are we meeting him?”  
  
You sigh. This is going to go poorly, you know it.  
  
  
  
Sleep doesn't come easily that night. When you finally awaken, you lie staring at the ceiling of your assigned room – provided by the PRT. You run your fingers through Angelica's fur, glance over at where Churchill lies sleeping on a broad cushion. A cup of coffee and a meal bar – provided by the PRT. The belt with eight slots for PCS capsules – provided, once again, by the PRT, as a special favor. You groan, down the coffee, and call Ethan. When he finally answers, haggard an exhausted, you let him know what Kenta told you. And what he didn't.  
  
Ethan stares at you for a long while. “Rachel.”, he finally states, his tone serious and level. “As your supervisor, I cannot condone your planned course of action. The PRT cannot allow rookie trainers running off to take on other trainers, even when accompanied by experienced non-PRT Trainers. Even those as notoriously skilled as Kenta the Dragon.”  
  
You say nothing, just watch him.  
  
“Damn it, Rachel, don't shoot yourself in the foot like this! There's only so much I can do!” Ethan barks. “I stuck my neck out to get you the dispensation for eight Pokemon. There's only so far that the Iron Lady is willing to bend.”  
  
“He's my friend.” You state simply. “And Taylor won't stop. I gotta support her, if nothing else.”  
  
“Fine.” Instructor Holland snaps. “I'm pushing an app to your Pokepedia. Turn it on, and I'll have a team inbound as soon as we get confirmation of Mr Labourn's location and status.” He glares at you, before deflating. “Don't get yourself killed, kid.” The screen blinks out.   
  
Your gut churns.  
  
You confirm the app, and then do a little shopping in the Trade Credit store on site, after cashing in the stored Pokemon you don't want. No armor in your size, or at least, not that would do anything more than hold your parts together if a Pokemon was tough enough to get past your team, but you did pick up some medical supplies, capsules full of sleeping powder and pheromone lures, a very nice survival knife, a decent breathmask and filtration system, and finally, a set of stakes to put around your tent to drive off wild Pokemon. It feels like the clerk is staring at you. You know he isn't, but still...  
  
You don't remember lunch.   
  
Shower.   
  
You haven't been in a fight with another person for years, but you still remember. The scars on your knuckles don't let you forget. The hot water runs through your short hair, until it goes cold.   
  
Underwear. Bra. White T-shirt. Heavy canvas cargo pants, pockets loaded with supplies. Long sleeve overshirt, tucked in at the waist and rolled up to your forearms. Hiking boots. You hesitate, and then strap the sheath for your new knife to your right thigh. Belt. Your fingers dance over the eight Capsules at your waist, the engraved patterns above the release button of each softball-sized device telling you which is which, Angelica and Churchill watching you silently.  
  
“We're going to rescue Brian.” You whisper, more to fill the silence than anything.  
  
Angelica whips her tail back and forth, trotting over to lean into your side.   
  
{Rescue from bad trainers?} Churchill asks.  
  
“Yeah.” You sigh. “They force Pokemon to fight.”  
  
The Grovyle gets a confused look. {Pokemon love fighting.} He chews his cigar thoughtfully. {Fighting makes strong.}  
  
“Yeah, but they're doing it to be cruel, or make money, and without making sure that the Pokemon are ok.” You run your fingers through your hair. “They make you tools, weapons. Not creatures to nurture and take care of.”  
  
Churchill frowns, but doesn't say any more.  
  
Angelica whines, and for a moment, you see the old Arcanine in your starter's expression of doggy concern. You ruffle her ears and smile weakly. “Let's go.” You turn to the door and put your bitch face on, choking down your doubts and fears, and turn the knob. “We've got a friend to save.”   
  
  
  
  
The statue of Captain William Brock, founder of old Brockton Bay, was a relic of the old days, well before the Event wiped cities off the map, leaving survivors to rebuild. The statue had stood in a large plaza, at the corner of where the Boardwalk used to be and the commercial districts. Had stood was the operative word. The statue fell a long time ago, leaving a plinth with tarnished copper and a tangle of broken stone limbs. Captain Brock's head, still sporting a jaunty tricorn, had been set back on the single foot left on the plinth. As you approach, you glance over at Taylor, walking grimly at your left. Her Pokemon are all still in their Capsules. You… Well, you haven't told her that you talked to Ethan. She seems to trust Kenta, for some reason. You'll just have to hope she knows what she's doing. That you know what you're doing.  
  
You arrive at the statue around 2:45. Kenta wasn't there. You glower at the empty square, the remains of park benches and the twisted tangles of dead trees not giving anywhere for a person to hide. Taylor frowns.  
  
Five minutes pass in awkward silence, the only sounds the call of Wingull, wheeling over the bay.   
  
“He said to meet us here.” You reply to Taylor's unstated question.  
  
In the distance, you start to hear the flap of massive, leathery wings. You look around, and spot it, coming in from the west. “He's called 'The Dragon' for a reason.” Taylor comments. As it gets closer, you can feel the air shake with each flap of the mighty wings, hear the breath through lungs like bellows, see the glare of light off orange scales that glint like copper in the afternoon sun. The Charizard lands with a heavy thud, and whips its blazing tail back and forth as it sneers at you. It's massive, easily ten feet tall at the shoulder, with a wingspan of fifty feet or more. Kenta slides off a saddle on its back, and rests a hand on the huge Pokemon's side.  
  
“You came.” He states. You stare. Kenta is wearing a long coat with a thick fur ruff, pockets laden with an older style of Capsule. The asian man smirks. “Behold, Lung the glorious.” He whispers, and the Charizard rears back, bugling, and launches a stream of fire into the air. Kenta shakes his head. “Showoff.” He taps the Pokemon with a Capsule, and it disappears.  
  
“He's… Impressive.” You manage.   
  
“Lung is undefeated, even in retirement.” Kenta states simply. “Are you ready?”  
  
Taylor nods, and Kenta turns without another word, leading the pair of you deeper into the old shopping districts. This area of what used to be Brockton Bay has been mostly cleared of hostile Pokemon, but not fully reclaimed for use. Abandoned storefronts and structures dominate the surroundings. In only a few minutes of walking, you come to an abandoned supermarket. Solar panels cover the flat roof, and glints of light shine from cracks in boarded up windows. Standing in front of the double doors is a burly man, shorter but broader than Kenta, faint blue tattoos in abstract patterns covering his pale skin and bald head. As you get closer, you see his eyes widen as he recognizes your guide. “D-Dragon?” He stammers.  
  
Kenta inclines his head. You wouldn't want to meet this bouncer in a dark alley, but to see him stammering like a kid is pretty amusing.  
  
“Kenta! It's great to see you! You havn't been here in years.”  
  
“I have business with Brad.”   
  
The bouncer blinks. “You're not here for the show?”  
  
A raised eyebrow. “A show, Jeremy?”  
  
Jeremy scratches his head. “I mean, it is invitation only...” He glances at you and Taylor, then back to the placid form of Kenta.  
  
The Dragon slowly reaches into an inside pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, picking out a couple of bills. “What show, Jeremy?”  
  
“Brad's bringing in a new girl.” The guard states, his eyes not leaving the money in Kenta's hands. “Wants her to join the club.”  
  
Kenta steps past Jeremy, slipping the money into his hand. “I was invited. As were my guests.”  
  
Jeremy glances at the Capsules at yours and Taylor's waists. “Yeah. Got it.” As you walk past, you slip a hand into your pocket and press a button on your Pokepedia.  
  
When Kenta pushes open the heavy door, a nearly solid wave of sound and smell hammers you, body odor and stale beer, cheering and roaring. Your expression twists, as you step inside. The interior of the stoor has been converted into a fighting ring, tall chainlink fencing blocking off a broad area, surrounded by tiers of cobbled-together seats. Around the perimeter are stalls, selling alcohol, food, and other vices. Inside the ring are a pair of trainers, a scrawny blonde woman, wearing ratty jeans, a pale shirt, and spiked combat boots, and a black girl your age that looks slightly familiar, dressed in cargo pants and a tight grey t-shirt. Each clutches a single Capsule, with more at their waist.  
  
A microphone squeals. “BLOODWOLVES!” roars an announcer. You spot him immediately. He's tall, blond, covered in hair that peeks through his wife-beater shirt and covers his arms. “We've got a new prospect! You've seen her around, seen her fight!” The man sneers. “And don't let the shiny balls or the stink of fresh meat fool you, she's got a hunger for what we do here.” he chuckles. “So, we're gonna have ourselves a little _blooding_.”  
  
Kenta frowns, crossing his arms, as Taylor scans the crowd. “Where's Brian?” she whispers.  
  
“But first, it's time to show us whether you have the skills, before you show us you have the _passion_.” the announcer rumbles. He turns, and the harsh overhead lights catch a tattoo of a wolf's head on his shoulder. “Melody! Have Reaper show us what new girl's got for us!”  
  
The blonde trainer nods, and releases a Scizor from the capsule in her hand. The mantis-like Pokemon with razor-sharp pincers snaps them together and lowers itself into a fighting stance, and the crowd roars. Opposite her, the black girl grimaces, the expression twisting into a snarl, before raising her own Capsule.  
  
In a flash of red light, a terribly familiar Pokemon appears. Tentacles waving like hair, the Malamar hisses and raises its arms as it floats before its trainer. It takes a moment for you to realize that it's not the one you fought, remember that you killed the last one you saw.   
  
“No.” Taylor whispers beside you. You glance over at her, then back to the ring. She's looking at the new trainer. “Hess.”  
  
“Hess?” You repeat, confused. “As in Sophia Hess?”  
  
Taylor nods, pale. “She hates me.”  
  
You glance to the girl in the ring, then back to your friend. “So? She's in there, we're here for Brian.”  
  
“BEGIN!”  
  
With a series of unintelligible clicks and whistles, the blond trainer leads her Pokemon on a dance around the ring, slashes of metalic light and bursts of impossible speed glancing off pinkish barriers and dodging crescents of black energy from the Malamar.   
  
“Umbra, Shadow port!” Sophia bellows, and the Malamar spins in place, sinking into shadows and appearing behind Reaper, lashing out with a tentacle that sends the lighter bug hurtling into the side of the cage. You spot the pink and white form of a Mr Mime bracing itself against its trademark invisible barrier on that side, but the crowd surges closer, cheering. The Malamar launches an orb of psychic energy at the stunned bug, only for it to dodge and reappear, crab-like claws clamped onto a pair of tentacles, shearing them off in a spray of brakish black blood. The squid-like Pokemon screams in fury, eyes glowing blue, before the glow is mirrored in the eyes of the Scizor. Melody whistles, and the bug shakes it off, but it was stunned long enough for the Malamar to get its arms around it.   
  
“CRUSH IT!” Sophia howls, and Umbra complies, wrapping the Scizor up and slowly cranking up the pressure in a squeal of metal carapace.   
  
In a flash of red light, three Beedrill appear, venom dripping from their stingers and drill arms, as capsules clatter to the floor. Melody buzzes, and the wasp-like Pokemon are all over the Malamar, stinging and stabbing relentlessly, until it vanishes back into Sophia's Capsule. The girl is panting, grinning viciously. “Burn in hell, fuckers!” With another flash and plume of smoke, the slate grey carapace of a massive Torcoal appears. “Furnace, Fire spin!” Orange limbs retract into the shell and are replaced by flame, setting the heavy tortoise spinning like a top, the flames and heat stunning the bugs long enough for the shell to slam into them with devastating force. In moments, the Scizor and two of the Beedril are recalled. The third is splattered against Mr Mime's protective barrier.  
  
Melody glares at Sophia, then nods, walking out of the cage without a second glance at the remains of her Pokemon.  
  
“Weeell, would you look at that! The upstart actually won!” the announcer crows. “I think she might have what it takes. What say you, Bloodwolves?”  
  
There's a howl of assent from the crowd.  
  
The blond man smirks, waving his arms at the crowd. “Well, now that we have her warmed up, here comes the fun part. Don't ever say that Brad Meadows doesn't know how to show you a good time.” He turns, and you see the crowd parting. A slender, brown-haired man, wearing a pair of crossed log chains and ragged jeans, is shoving Brian along, flanked by a scarred Luxray. “Donnie, bring him in.”   
  
Taylor tenses, but there's too many people between you and Brian. You glance at Kenta, who stands immobile, expressionless.  
  
At Brad's order, Brian is shoved into the arena, the cage door closed behind him. He staggers to his feet, the prosthetic slipping on the sandy floor, before getting his balance and glaring up at the announcer. “You're not getting away with this!”  
  
“Look, kid.” Brad sneers. “Nobody cares. You could have been a partner, made some cash, hell, even looked the other way, but you had to be all noble.”  
  
“I'm not going to let my dad's legacy be misused like this!” Brian retorts.   
  
“How do you think your dad got the money to go legit? He was as good a Fighting-type trainer as we've ever had, and then he turned his back on us.” Brad roars, and the crowd jeers. “Face it, brat. Nobility is dead.”  
  
Brian says nothing, turning to Sophia. “You're going along with this?”  
  
“Sounds like you were being a dumbass.” She retorts. “You gotta do what you gotta do to survive.”  
  
“That's the spirit, Hess!” Brad crows. “Now -” Silence falls as the crowd waits with hushed breath. “Do you want to be a BLOODWOLF?”  
  
The dark-skinned girl smirks. “Hell yes.”  
  
Brad grins. “Then all you gotta do is get out one of your Pokemon...” He trails off.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“And kill him.”  
  
“No, you won't!” A voice calls out, and you're shocked to find that it's yours.  
  
“Who the fuck are you, girl?” Brad yells, furious, and then he spots Kenta by your side. He blanches for a second, then recovers “Oh, the fainting dragon decided to come out of retirement and play babysitter. Bring your girlfriend to fight for you?”  
  
“No, he brought Brian's girlfriend to fight for...Brian.” Taylor yells, trailing off sheepishly. You facepalm, then pat her shoulder as the crowd laughs and Brian shakes his head.   
  
Brad roars with laughter. “This is rich, Kenta the Dragon bringing a pair of schoolgirls to fight for him.” he wipes a tear from his eye. “You, girl, have brass, and I respect that. It won't keep me from kicking your teeth in and taking your shiny balls for my Bloodwolves.”  
  
“You can try.” You retort, your anger overriding your fear.  
  
Brad sneers. “You do have brass.” He looks down into the arena. “Hess, you want a different target?”  
  
Sophia glances at you, then to Brian, and then up to Brad. “Fuck this, I'm out.” She turns and walks out of the gate nearest you. “Keep your damn murder to your self, I'm out of here.” As the girl shoulders by you, she whispers “Good fucking luck, bitch.” Something tells you she means it.  
  
The leader of the Bloodwolves scowls. “Well, that's just disappointing. Guess I'm going to have to make an example of you myself.” He glances at Kenta. “Well, Kenta, what you going to do about it?”  
  
Kenta looks at you, and nods to himself. “Enforce the result. A fair fight, for honor and old time's sake.” He sneers. “Or have you no honor, anymore?”  
  
With a snarl, Brad grabs a Capsule off his belt. “You gonna fucking make me?” In a flash, a humanoid figure made of blades and blood-red armor appears. A Bisharp, quite rare around here.   
  
“Yes, I will.” Kenta replies calmly, without a twitch.  
  
You can practically see Brad's mind racing. “Fine. I win, the boy's gym and property belong to the Bloodwolves. She wins...”  
  
“He goes free, and you disband.” You snap.   
  
Brad rolls his eyes. “Ha, like that would happen. I've been fighting with my fists and Pokemon since you were in diapers, kid. But sure, why not.”  
  
You stride forward into the arena before your nerve gives out.   
  
“Whoa, bitch, hold up! We gotta make this a fair fight, right?” He sneers. “I have four Pokemon, and you look like you got eight. That's just unfair.” The hairy man's grin goes feral. “So you gotta choose four. I'll even show you mine.”  
  
The Bisharp dances over in front of him in a clatter of metal, eyes glowering from beneath a steel helm, only for a Houndoom, hugely muscled, heavily scarred, and with one broken horn, to appear by its side. The towering form of a Rhyperior makes the floor shake, and with a flash of blue light, a Lucario, one eye socket empty with a vertical scar appears, crossing her arms. Brad gestures expansively. “Bowie, Bastard, Bastion, and Bitch, at your service.”  
  
“Now choose.”  
  
Your fingers brush over the Pokepedia in your pocket, and you gulp, gritting your teeth.


	27. Chapter 27

“So, your team of four veterans is a fair match against four of my rookies?” You snap. Maybe you can kill two Pidgey with one Stone Throw – and now you hate yourself a little for the forced metaphor. “I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment, or think you lack confidence in your own abilities.”  
  
A hush falls over the jeering crowd. Brad scowls at you from behind his Pokemon.   
  
“I've been a trainer for less than six months.” You reply simply, projecting your voice as best as you can, focusing to keep your heart from racing, your fear from showing. “Are you saying that your four Pokemon are a _fair_ match for four of my Pokemon?” You pointedly look over at Kenta, who crosses his arms, frowning.   
  
Brad follows your gaze, then looks at the crowd, before chuckling. “You got a point, kid. I'll give you your choice of six.” His gaze darkens. “And still crush you like a bug.”  
  
You nod, and swiftly summon your primary pair, kneeling between Angelica and Churchill, your fingers flitting in sign. {Kill ground, no mercy}. The Grovyle nods sharply, his claws dipping into the grassy pouch he crafted with his power and palming a Powerball. You scratch Angelica right above her new collar, the dark leather matching the color of her coat and holding the Dusk Stone pressed against her throat. “Angelica, take the Lucario down, then the Bisharp. Fire, as hot as you can.”   
  
You stand, summoning Tully, Acey, Gaius, and Sunshine in quick succession. When Tully appears, he gives a happy yip as he sees the Lucario. It doesn't respond, glaring fixedly at your team with its one eye. Tully's brow furrows, and he yelps again, louder, pulsing his aura through the sensory lobes on the back of his head. Once again, there's no response. “Something wrong, Tully?” you ask.  
  
“What, does liddle Riolu think he sees his mommy?” Brad mocks, and the crowd roars with laughter.  
  
The Riolu growls, his Aura growing and flickering wildly. “Tully, see if you can get the Houndoom, but don't get hit.” He never takes his eyes off the Lucario, but nods slowly. “Sunshine, open up with an attack on the Lucario, then block whatever you can without getting hit.”  
  
[CONFIRMATION]  
[MORTALITY]  
[RESOLUTION] <“I-I will. I will fight till my last breath.”>   
  
“Are you going to chat with your Pokemon all day, or are you gonna fight? Bastion, BOULDER CANNON!” Brad yells, and his Rhyperior, an eight-foot-tall mass of bony orange and brown armor, raises an arm and braces it with the other. The bowling-ball-sized hole in the palm of its hand starts glowing with muddy brown light.  
  
“Scatter! Acey, Thunder Wave, Gaius, defend!” You yelp, and your Pokemon leap into action, Brad's moving to meet them. They're too slow. In a flash, Churchill crunches down on the Powerball, then shifts his cigar into a blowpipe, launching a heavily charged Seed Snipe down the Rhyperior's arm-tube. As it bellows in pain, the energy flickering and vines visibly punching through its flesh from the inside, Churchill vanishes, reappearing beside it as his leaf-blades flick out, shearing through the massive creature's arm in a flash of green light. Bastion rears back and trumpets in agony, and with an arc of green light, another leaf-blade sends his head flying, blood jetting from the stump.   
  
“NO!” Brad snarls. “Bastard! Cook him!” The scarred Houndoom wheels, black-edged flames licking out from his mouth at your loyal Grovyle, but Tully is already there, a rising knee, wreathed in red light, slamming into the Houndoom's jaw, cutting off its attack. The Bisharp moves in to stab at Tully, but a blue-white cone of flame from Angelica scorches a glowing line of molten steel across its armor, clipping off the edges of its forearm blades. Angelica twists, and her Blowtorch arcs towards Lucario, but the scarred Fighting Pokemon slips out of the way, leaping at Churchill with a snarl. A pane of green light deflects the Lucario's lunge, before reshaping into a cudgel and swinging at the Pokemon, throwing it against the chainlink fence bordering the arena.  
  
[DENIAL!] <“Not on my watch!”>   
  
Acey squeals, and discharges a cone of yellow-white lightning at the Lucario, sending sparks dancing over its form. The jackal-like Pokemon howls, muscles twitching, and lunges clumsily at the Pikachu, who dodges in a blur of yellow, leading her foe in circles. You frown. It has no form, not like Tully, just… angry swipes. Still, Acey is keeping ahead, but can't stop long enough to hit it with another Thunder Wave.  
  
There's a cheer from the crowd, and you snarl as Angelica goes flying from a heavy punch from the Bisharp. Brad's Houndoom leaps at yours to follow up, snarling and drooling, his burly form easily out-massing hers, but Tully lands another kick and punch in his ribs, distracting him from his charge, before leaping back into the fray. “Keep them off balance!” you yell. Churchill swings his stick, shaped into a leaf-edged sword, at the Bisharp, who easily deflects it, but Tully takes advantage of the opening, knocking it off its narrow feet in a shower of sparks from blades on the concrete floor, and Angelica leaps in, jaws full of flame, and latches onto the Steel-type's back. Bowie howls, and you can see molten metal dripping from where your Houndoom is biting.   
  
With an angry bark, Bastard leaps at Angelica, but with a howl of exertion, Tully executes a leaping kick, wreathed in red light, that lands squarely underneath the leaping Houndoom's gut. The battered hellhound goes flipping through the air, landing hard on his back on the floor. Before he can scramble to his feet, Tully appears in a blur of blue fur in front of the Houndoom and kicks it in the head. Bastard collapses and goes still, and the crowd cheers.  
  
“I should have known you were good, if Kenta brought you.” Brad spits. “Bitch! Kill the girl!” The Lucario turns towards you, single eye glowing, and starts stalking towards you. Churchill's head snaps over to you, and Angelica inadvertently loosens her grip on the struggling Bisharp, leaving the wounded Pokemon able to lash out with a bladed forearm and cut a deep gash into Churchill's torso, the wound stretching from shoulder to hip and gushing blood. The Grovyle shrieks, and Angelica ignites a Blowtorch with her jaws still clamped around the Bisharp's spine. A spot of superheated metal appears on the Bisharp's chest, and it thrashes, howling, as it starts to cook from the inside.  
  
Despite the screams, the Lucario is undaunted in her approach. You move backwards, until your back is pressed against the fence. The crowd goes quiet. Sunshine's barriers are batted aside with glowing fists, despite the type advantage, until a backhand with a spiked paw slams through a barrier and skewers the small Psychic Pokemon. Bitch growls, and shakes the Solosis off, where she lies unmoving on the floor, clear ichor dripping on the sand.   
  
“Sunshine!” You scream. The Solosis doesn't move.  
  
Gaius stomps, and a wall of dense concrete spikes rises in front of you, only for the Lucario to batter through it, fists glowing red. It's never used Aura, some part of you realizes. Tully howls, and lunges at the Lucario with a flying kick, only to be casually batted aside. He recovers in mid air, landing on his feet, yelping and snarling angrily, blue Aura pulsing and glowing brighter and brighter. The Lucario slowly turns to look at him with her good eye. This close… You're used to the liveliness of Tully, of your other Pokemon. Even Gaius has at least some personality, these days. Bitch… she's got nothing inside. Her eye is flat and dead. She takes a step closer to Tully, then another. The Riolu spreads his arms, eyes pleading, Aura flickering over his sensory lobes and along his body in waves.   
  
The Lucario rears back for a kick, red fighting energy wreathing her paw, and Tully howls, white energy enveloping his form as she launches the kick at his muzzle. When the light fades, he's tripled in height, lanky blue and black limbs supporting a slender, yet muscular frame, holding Bitch's foot motionless in both paws. The new Lucario snarls. <_Soulless husk_.> Your ears hear his snarls, but his voice whispers in your mind, not insinuated or broadcast like the Psychic types you had encountered, simply… understood. With a shove, Tully throws Bitch off balance, then moves in with a clean leg-sweep and a throw, sending her hurtling towards the cage opposite you, before lunging after her. <_I pity you, Bitch_.> He barks, grabbing her sloppy paw swipe and slamming her into the floor, pinning her arms behind her back and looking at you. <_Mistress. Your judgment?_>  
  
“Knock her out.” You snap, and dart to Sunshine's side, grabbing a Panacea from your pocket and pressing it to her wound. The gouge is only a couple of inches deep, after getting past the Solosis's protective gel – but that is far too deep on such a small Pokemon. “Come on...” The medicine hisses and bubbles… and nothing happens. “FUCK!” You grab Sunshine's Capsule, and trigger the return. The red beam of light shoots out, enveloping the Solosis, then falters. “No...” you whisper, trying again. Nothing. The only way that wouldn't work is if… She's dead… Gaius nuzzles at your side, and you look up, glaring through tears at Brad. “You fucking bastard.”  
  
The pit fighter sneers at you. “Can't take a little death, girly?” Still, he's looking nervous. Your team slaughtered at least two of his – The Bisharp lies bisected in a pool of cooking blood and molten metal, Angelica now helping Churchill to his feet – and he's defenseless, after siccing one of his Pokemon on you directly. You step forward, and see movement out of the corner of your eye. Kenta stalks up to the cage door, Capsule in hand.  
  
“The match is won.” He intones, and you whirl on him.   
  
“Kenta, you _fucking_ bastard, I thought you were going to fight him!” You howl, and Tully appears at your side in a blur.   
  
“You showed that your methods were stronger through victory.” The Asian man states simply.  
  
“You pompous fucker, one of my Pokemon DIED.” You scream. “I don't fucking care that I won or that I proved something, he _KILLED HER_!”   
  
“Stupid bitch, they're monsters. Animals. Sometimes they die, why bother fussing about it?” Brad retorts.   
  
It's the wrong move. You're moving before you can think, charging blindly at the asshole who slaughtered your friend, who abused his own team, who didn't even care that you had to kill his Pokemon in self-defense. Tully stops you with a firm hug around your middle, but Angelica… Angelica has Brad on the ground, growling in his face, flames licking from her jaws and boiling saliva dripping on his cheeks. “ANGELICA!” you scream. “KI-”  
  
“PRT! GET ON THE GROUND!” Booms out a voice, and the double doors blow in. A squad of uniformed and armored Brock Town Police and PRT Rangers pours in, a pair Butterfree flitting over the crowd dropping sleeping powder, Ethan stalking in behind, an Exploud prowling behind him. He glares at the arena. “You are under arrest, do not attempt to resist, or you will be detained by force.” You slump to your knees, and the tears flow.  
  
Kenta scowls, but nods to the PRT officer. “Ethan.”  
  
“Kenta.” Ethan's reply is full of disdain. “Done putting rookies in harm's way?”  
  
The Dragon opens his mouth to reply, then glances at you and sighs, before nodding. “I have made my point.”  
  
Ethan snorts, and makes his way to you, slamming the gate to the fence open on the way, a Ranger following in his wake, using Capsules to capture Brad's defeated Lucario and Houndoom. “C'mon kid, let's get your guys gathered up and get you out of here.”  
  
  
  
You find yourself sitting in a police-issue electric van, Taylor and Brian on either side, Sunshine… Sunshine's body lying in your lap. Kenta sits opposite you, straight-backed. You glare at him. “Happy?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Taylor snorts, and you glare at her. “Fat lot of help you were.” You snap. “I thought you'd have my back!”  
  
“I was going to help Brian!” She protests, and you roll your eyes. “I thought you had him.”  
  
“You beat him. Easily.” Kenta rumbles. “You care deeply, and nurture your Pokemon.” He rumages in a pocket and hands you a Capsule and a pair of stones that glow with inner light, then sighs. “I am sorry for your loss. While these cannot ease the pain, accept them as tokens of my thanks and apology.”  
  
You sniff derisively. “You could have beaten him far easier than me. Why me?”  
  
“Because everyone knew that I could win. Because they needed to see a girl, barely out of school, take down their leader, to make their folly sink in.”  
  
“That's a bullshit reason.”  
  
Kenta shrugs. “It is the reason I have.” He stands, and makes his way out of the back of the van. “I shall see you again.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
There's a _whumph_ as leathery wings flap, and Kenta the Dragon is gone.  
  
You sit in silence, turning the stones over in your hands. One is a faint blue, the other a steadfast red. Someone had etched a water droplet and a fist into the rocks. Water and Fighting Stones. You sigh, slipping them into a pocket.  
  
Taylor silently puts a hand on your shoulder, and you shrug it off.   
  
It's a long ride home.  
  
  
  
Ethan helps you get into your assigned apartment, and when you're sitting on your bed, Sunshine's… remains… in a box on your desk, he slumps down into a chair.   
  
“I'm sorry we were so late.”  
  
You don't reply.  
  
“One of the Mr Mimes had a jamming field up, we couldn't teleport in like we planned, we had to arrange transportation nearby.”  
  
“It's fine. It was my fault.”  
  
Ethan sighs. “Not entirely.” He scratches at his stubble. “We knew about the Bloodwolves, but not where they operated. We could have searched them out and cracked down on them. Kenta, the bastard, could have had his Dragonite or Gyarados stomp a mudhole in the back of every single Pokemon in there at any point for the past five years.” He levels a stern look at you. “But you didn't have to go. You didn't have to fight.” He sighs again. “Pokemon die, kid. Hell, you killed two yourself not more than an hour ago. And sometimes they die because of what you choose.”   
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Every Trainer goes through something like this.” Ethan leans forward. “Rachel, you are tough, stubborn, caring, just a bit crazy, and an excellent Trainer. You just applied the wrong lesson here, and reality ensued. Think about it.” He stands, and pats your shoulder. “You've got a couple day's leave. Get yourself put together, then report to my office.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Don't thank me. That will be when you get your punishment detail.”  
  
“Thanks anyway.”  
  
Ethan pats your shoulder again, and lets himself out. You slump back on the bed. Angelica and Churchill are in the PRT Clinic, recovering. Churchill will have a scar. Acey is tired, but uninjured. Gaius is fine. Tully is exhausted, recovering from muscle strain from the combat, so soon after his evolution. And Sunshine is dead.  
  
You cry yourself to sleep.  
  



	28. Chapter 28

It's a crisp October morning, and the sun is rising in a pale blue sky over the sea. You shiver into your jacket, standing at a small stone plinth on a low cliff, overlooking the sea. Churchill and Tully flank you, Angelica sitting at your feet, looking in silence at the plinth and the broad basin it holds. There, in a nest of dry wood, lies the box holding Sunshine's remains. Footsteps crunch in the gravel behind you. You don't turn. It's Taylor and Brian and you are not speaking with them at the moment. Well, with Taylor. Brian's all right.   
  
You stand in silence. There are not any words you can think to say. You just… think. Sunshine was a friend. A neurotic, depressed, loyal friend. A bad-ass, who gave her life to protect you. A tear falls.  
  
[MORTALITY]  
  
She broadcast that… Word? Concept? Emotion? Whatever it was to you so frequently, and you can't help but consider it now. Death. The cessation of existence. And yet, in retrospect, while there was fear when she said it, there was no terror. Just… Resignation. Acceptance. A hint of peace in oblivion. Something inevitable, something accepted – to be delayed where possible, and accepted when it comes.  
  
You feel a little better. Looking down at Angelica, you smile weakly. “Sunshine was a friend.” you whisper.  
  
{Loyal companion.} Churchill signs, wincing as the scar on his torso stretches.  
  
<_A stalwart defender._> Tully barks.  
  
“We'll miss you.” You finish simply. Angelica gently breaths a stream of flame at the bier, and the wood catches. As the flames flicker in the morning light, she lets out a long, mournful howl, and you let the smoke and howl carry your sorrows with them. When everything is reduced to ash, you carefully scoop it into a replica Capsule, given to you by the PRT, and seal it. Only then, once your tears have dried to streaks on your cheeks, do you turn to walk back to Brock Town.  
  
Taylor is dressed in dark clothes – nothing fancy, dark jeans and a hoody, to guard against the chill – but she's been crying as well. Brian nods at you somberly. “Rachel...” Taylor says softly. “I'm sorry.”  
  
You nod, but say nothing as you walk between them, followed by your team. Although the little ceremony took a little of the edge off, it's still just too soon to talk to Taylor about what happened. Too fresh.   
  
It's tempting to go to a training ground, but instead, you find your feet wandering to the beach. It's too cold and early to swim, so there's very few people, so it's easy to find a spot to settle down and watch the surf. “So what do we do now?” You ask.  
  
<_Learn, and grow._> Tully suggests with a soft yip.   
  
{Train, get stronger.} Curchill agrees. {So no more losses.}  
  
That's about what you expected. Angelica lies by your side, and you put your arm over her, scratching between the plates of her rib armor. “So what do you want in life?”  
  
Tully and Churchill glance at each other. Some unspoken conversation passes. You had seen something like this before in training, the way that the two Pokemon could communicate without speech. Finally, the Grovyle turns to you. {Strength, to support you. Knowledge, to teach my kind.} He signs carefully. A pause. {Family, eventually.}  
  
“You want to help other Treecko learn to become sapient?”   
  
{Thinking, speaking, yes.} Churchill agrees.  
  
“Wow.” That's… That's ambitious. “As partners for other trainers?”  
  
Churchill's brow furrows as he thinks. {If good. Not bad trainers.}  
  
<_Not like the Bloodwolves._> Tully growls.  
  
“Absolutely.” You agree. “No way in hell I'd let your kids go to anyone like those bastards.” You let out a sigh, watching the surf roll. “Settling down… That sounds nice. I'm not strong enough, not yet. Too many obligations.”  
  
{Dreams. Hopes.} Churchill signs. {Future, not now.} He smirks around his cigar. {Now heal, train, make sun-blade.}  
  
“A Solar Blade?” A grin slowly grows on your face. “I'd love to see that. Solar Beam was awesome.”  
  
<_I missed it._> Tully pouts, and you can't help but snicker. The Lucario is sprawled in the sand, staring at the sky, tongue lolling.  
  
“What about you, Tully? What do you want to do? What can I get you?”  
  
The Lucario's expression sets. <_I need to get stronger, too._> He glances over to you. <_What do you truly know about Aura?_>  
  
“It's that blue power you use.” You reply. “It lets you detect other Pokemon or the energy they produce, and you can shape it into attacks.” At his flat expression, you shrug. “It's not quite like any known Pokemon Type energy.”  
  
<_Accurate enough. It's not like I was able to tell you before._> Tully replies eventually, sitting up into a cross-legged pose, paws held palm up in his lap. The quartet of long lobes on the back of his head start to glow with faint blue light that pours down his arms and into his hands, where it flows like water, back and forth, until it starts circling into a sphere. <_There are things I know that no one has told me. Truths written in my bones._> The sphere swirls faster and faster, compressing and expanding. <_Aura is the light of my soul. Through it, I speak into the world, and the world speaks to me._>   
  
“So that's how I understand you.” You whisper.  
  
<_Yes._> Tully agrees. <_And the Lucario in the pit? She had _none.> He growls, the orb of Aura floating in front of him vibrating and pulsing, arcs of energy licking out like solar flares. <_That _man_ had snuffed out her soul, left her as some thing made of meat, without heart or mind._> You sit in silence, watching as Tully soothes the sphere of energy, calming the arcs of blue flame until it's a peaceful blue marble. He clenches a paw, and it vanishes, the corona of energy around him going dark. <_So I want to make sure that doesn't happen to other Riolu._> A pause. <_Or anyone else._>  
  
You lay back in the cool sand, and Angelica lays her head on your stomach. “That's ambitious. Really ambitious.” Angelica rolls her eyes, and you chuckle. “And I just wanted to get strong enough to retire and raise lots of puppies.” You scratch your Houndoom's ears. “My Pokemon want to change the world.”  
  
Tully huffs out a laugh. <_I'd let you raise my puppies._>  
  
Gasping in mock shock, you cover your mouth. “Tully!” The Lucario actually manages to blush through his fur, and you can't hold back the belly laugh that emerges, Churchill and Angelica joining in. Tully covers his eyes with one paw and groans.   
  
Once you recover, you glance down at the Houndoom with her head on your stomach. “What about you, Angelica?” Your loyal dog rolls her eyes and huffs again.  
  
<_She says not to ask stupid questions_> Tully snickers.  
  
“I could have told you that.” You retort, and start scratching behind her horns. “She's my good girl, yes she is.”  
  
You spend the afternoon chatting idly with your Pokemon, resting in the sun, and healing.  
  
  
  
Even in loss, things will get better.


	29. Chapter 29

You let yourself into Ethan's office and settle into the chair across his desk. He looks up from his paperwork, his gaze flitting over you, assessing you, before returning to the computer. “I'll be with you in a second, need to finish this.” He's a little cool to you still, the familiarity that had grown between you lessened. You sit, resisting the urge to fidget and twiddle your fingers, until he finally turns back to you. “So, Rachel.” He stops for a moment, studying your face and expression. “What did you learn?”  
  
The question doesn't surprise you. “Don't trust inscrutable strangers.” You immediately respond, and Ethan smirks. “Don't rush into situations I don't understand.”  
  
“Accurate, but not the full story.” Ethan interrupts. “Being a Trainer is about risk management. Sometimes managing those risks is best done by pushing ahead and moving quickly, but only when you are prepared. You need to have backup that you can trust and be prepared for as many situations as possible, but you can't let the unknown paralyze you and keep you from acting.”  
  
You nod slowly, looking at your hands. Eventually you look back up at the scarred man across from you. “Ethan, did I do the wrong thing?”  
  
He leans back in his chair. “Answering as a PRT Official, yes, you acted outside the bounds of your authority as a rookie Pokemon Trainer. As your friend, I understand why you did what you did, and your heart was in the right place, you just need to work on the execution.” Ethan chuckles. “God only knows how bad I fucked up when I was your age.” He sighs. “The lesson that takes the longest to learn is always the one about how much other people rely on you. People and Pokemon.”  
  
Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you nod weakly. “Yeah, I'm getting that. Sunshine… She was a person. Churchill and Angelica are people. Tully, too. Something about him, he says it's his Aura, lets me understand him when he speaks, even when all I hear is barks and yips.”   
  
Ethan scratches at the stubble on his chin with his prosthetic hand. “I've heard odd things about Lucario, but not that they're comprehensible. It may just be compartmentalized or need-to-know, though, or yet another thing that we just don't understand about Pokemon yet.” He shakes his head. “Kid, you get yourself into the weirdest bullshit. I don't think you understand, but rookies just a handful of months out of school just don't have four sapient Pokemon.” He winces. “Three, sorry.”  
  
“How do you do it?” The words slip out. “Dealing with losing someone?”  
  
The Ranger sits and stares at you for a long while, his expression somber. “Let me tell you a story, kid. Once, there was a rookie, fresh out of one of the very first training classes, with shiny new technology, barely tested, and then shoved out the door and told to fix the world. He partnered up with a classmate that he had a crush on, because she was a little firebrand, passionate, wanted to make the world a better place for everyone. He took his Starter, went out into the world, and had adventures, successes, failures… Just a rip-roaring good time.” Ethan sighs, his eyes distant. “He even got the girl of his dreams. His partner agreed to marry him, and they started planning a life together. There was always another mission, another job, another horde of wild Pokemon to repel… Until one day everything went wrong.”   
  
Ethan sighs, and rubs his forearm, where the prosthetic is strapped to the stump. “In one stroke, through a mixture of bad luck and a lapse of judgment, that rookie – that shining star with a veteran team and a beautiful fiance – lost everything. His Pokemon, his fiance...” He slips off the prosthetic and lays it on the table. “His hand.” The veteran looks at you for a long while. “You never forget your first loss. Your second. Your third. Every triumph, every loss, they all stick with you. You just… Deal.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I turned to drink. Fell into a bottle for a couple of years. Fell out when Colin staged an intervention. Decided to be a handler, to try and keep kids from making my mistakes.” Ethan smirks wryly. “To limited success. But, all you can do is keep going forward. Don't forget the losses, but take the happy moments and keep them closer, learn the lessons that you can.”   
  
You sit and watch Ethan slip the prosthetic back onto his stump. “Th-thanks.”  
  
A knowing smile. “That's a lot to dump on your lap.”  
  
“Yeah.” You nod. “But… Thanks. For your perspective.”  
  
“Like I said, you never forget your first loss. But you grow past it.”  
  
You decide to change the subject. “So, what's the fallout from the raid on the Bloodwolves?”  
  
“Well, it turns out that they were the source of some of the unauthorized Evolution Stone trafficking that has been reported, and of course there's the drugs and gambling. The Police were able to get some people with outstanding warrants, so that was a good thing. Some of those guys are going away for a long time.”  
  
“Brad.” You spit.  
  
Ethan nods. “Yeah, he's wanted in relation to a few murders and disappearances, so good job taking him down.”  
  
“He told his Lucario to kill me. He was about to kill Brian. And everyone was just going to watch.” You snarl. “Why hadn't they been cracked down on before?”  
  
“In a word: Bureaucracy.” Ethan's mouth twists like he bit into something bitter. “For all its power, the Pokemon Ranger Team and its support structure is not a law enforcement agency at its core. We are empowered to deal with wild Pokemon and with internal affairs and enforcement with our trainers, but our ability to deal with actual crime is very low. There's no investigative arm, so while the police can call us in for backup on Pokemon-related crime, we can't actually do more than give them leads or evidence without police presence.”  
  
“And since the police are overworked, just due to a lack of numbers and rebuilding infrastructure, they can't put in the time or people to hunt down a fight club with only rumors of shady things happening.” You conclude.  
  
“Exactly.” Ethan smiles. “Good reasoning.”  
  
“So what about Hess? She's still a Trainer, right?”  
  
Ethan scowls. “Hess… I am not at liberty to discuss the rain of fire that is about to come down on her ass.”  
  
“She did refuse to kill Brian.” You volunteer. “For what that's worth.”  
  
“That's about the only thing that's keeping her out of prison. Technically, the only things she actually did were participate in a few unsupervised trainer battles, which is frowned upon, but not quite illegal.” He sighs. “While we are on the topic of punishment...”  
  
You grimace. “What's the verdict?”  
  
Ethan levels a stare at you. “I spoke with Director Piggot and explained the situation. Honestly, you've had an unusual experience for a rookie trainer, and she decided that you need a taste of what being a Ranger is really about.” He smiles. “You get a month of border duty.”  
  
“Border duty?” That's… not terrible?  
  
“Yup!” He pops the 'p' like bubblegum. “We're assigning you to a Ranger and putting you on the border patrol at Old Brockton for a month. Ten hours a day, six days a week, with a day off every 4 days, so your day off rotates through the week. Any Pokemon you capture will go to our stores and researchers automatically, the TC credit that you would normally receive if you were assigned normally will be not be applied.”  
  
“Oh. So essentially, I get lots of time to battle-season my Pokemon, without worrying about adding to my team, while under direct supervision so I don't get into trouble, and enough time to do some supplemental training after hours and on days off?”  
  
“Officially, you have been assigned a punitive assignment with long, grueling hours, and had your compensation docked as a punishment for your foolish actions.” Ethan winks. “Any other benefit is purely coincidental.”  
  
You grin. “Thanks, Ethan.”  
  
“You're welcome. You start in two days, report to Randall at Watch station three at 8:00 AM.” Ethan pauses. “I'm glad you're safe, kid. Trust me next time.”  
  
“I will.” You shake his hand and leave the office.   
  
  
  
There's still some time in the day, so you head over to one of the larger training yards. This one is open to the air, with a cluster of artificial rock formations creating a fairly tall platform in the middle, surrounded by broad stripes of sand, gravel, and grass, creating a dartboard pattern centered on the platform. You do get some odd looks as you walk through town with Churchill, Angelica, and Tully out of their Capsules, but you don't want to keep storing Tully if you can help it, especially now that he has proved sapient. He's not as adverse to it as Churchill, but it's better to let him enjoy the scenery.   
  
Standing at the base of the stone platform, you call out your full team of seven Pokemon. Gaius immediately starts nosing through the gravel, with Mab darting into the shade by your side and Brutus warbling unhappily at the dry area, before spraying himself with water. “Ok, guys. We're about to have some time to train and work, but I wanted to make sure that everyone is ok.” Gaius raises his head to look at you, but returns to the gravel. He seems to be searching for something specific, and you toss a handful of titanium-enriched bearings ahead of him.  
  
{No think.} Churchill comments.  
  
“No, not yet. Better to assume that they can, rather than that they can't.”  
  
<_And that's why we like you.> _Tully adds.  
  
Gaius snaps up the last bearing with a happy rumble, and then trundles over to you and nuzzles your hand. Chuckling, you scratch at the leathery flesh underneath the steel plate by one of his hidden ears, and he leans into the motion, rumbling happily. His polished steel armor catches the sun, and then the white glow of evolution consumes him. When it subsides, the new Aggron looms head and shoulders over you, foot-long horns protruding from the armor above his eyes. He looks around curiously, and then down at his claws. Rearing back, he bugles triumphantly, the rich sound of horns in harmony. “Way to go, Gaius!” you crow, beaming.   
  
Over the next few minutes, you put Gaius through his paces. He's far faster and stronger like this, able to reach frankly terrifying speeds with a bit of a run up, but his agility is still fairly low. If one of his powerful arms or his stumpy tail connects with a blow, however… You have to put in a request to have the stone formation in the middle of the training ground replaced after a stray tail blow, glowing with metallic steel energy, reduces it to rubble. Acey has a new favorite perch, the Pikachu standing alertly from a vantage point on Gaius's broad shoulder or clambering up and down paw-holds on his thick steel plates. The Aggron is placid and calm, but not obviously sapient, but he's obviously far brighter than he was as Aron or Lairon already, able to take a string of fairly complex instructions and execute them with ease.  
  
  
  
At home, after a quick shower, you find yourself staring at the contact list for the video chat feature. Two entries, one above the other. With a sigh, you press the upper one. You're still not up to talking to Taylor. After a few rings, Sarah's blonde head appears on the screen. “Rachel! How are you?”  
  
“Ok.” You smile faintly, but Sarah must see something in your expression.  
  
“Something happen? I heard that Brian got in trouble again and you pulled his ass out of the fire, but there weren't any details.”  
  
“Well, that's one way to put it...” You're about to explain, but Sarah interrupts you.  
  
“Mmmnope, not over vidchat. I'm coming over.” She grins. “I'm just a few halls over anyway.” The call disconnects with a click.  
  
Sure enough, Sarah is knocking on your door about five minutes later, and squeals as Tully opens the door for you. “Oh my goodness, Tully evolved! You're going to be keeping him out like Angelica and Churchill?”  
  
<I do enjoy the liberty to see the world.> Tully replies, in a series of barks and yips.  
  
Sarah blinks. Blinks again, and her mouth opens and closes wordlessly. “I… Understood that?”  
  
<Bark Bark Yelp, Woof Woof.> Tully says, managing to keep a deadpan expression, before finally erupting into huffs of doggy laughter. Your expression twists into a smirk, although hearing the sounds he made and the words he intended – which were completely different in cadence – was a little mentally jarring.  
  
“Rachel, have I lost my mind?”   
  
“Only if I have as well.”  
  
The pair of you burst into laughter, and Sarah tosses you a bag of candied fruit. “Here, have a gift. I got a whole box full for helping a greenhouse with a Torcoal problem. Rascal had some trouble getting through their armor, but with Lily chipping in at range, it wasn't too much of an issue.” Rascal was the Rockruff that Sarah had kept out of the litter you had captured on the mission into Old Brockton, and more than lived up to her name. With your help, Sarah had kept her engaged and under control, and now the feisty rock puppy had evolved into a lean, tan-furred wolf.   
  
“Glad to hear it went well. It's been a...” You can't quite find the words.  
  
Sarah's expression softens. “It was bad, huh?” You nod, and Sarah plops down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “Tell me about it.”  
  
You plop down into the seat, and before you know it, you're telling the whole story, how Brian got kidnapped – again, about useless shirtless men and partners who freeze and don't help, about assholes who rip out their Pokemon's souls, and before you know it, you're crying about Sunshine again and Sarah is patting you on the back.  
  
“Hey, it'll be ok. Live and learn, right?” She pauses for a moment. “What would Sunshine say?”  
  
You giggle, with a bit of a hiccup. “Probably something like 'CONFIRMATION. MORTALITY. ACCURACY.' to say she told me so.” You sigh. “It's just… Hard.”  
  
“I know.” Sarah smiles sadly. “And I don't have great advice for you. But I'm your friend, and I'm here for you.”   
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“You gotta talk to Taylor, though. At least to find out her perspective.”  
  
“Yeah. I just...” You pause, trying to find your words.   
  
“You don't feel like you can trust her, cause she was there and didn't help you.”  
  
You let out a sigh. “Yeah.”  
  
Sarah doesn't say anything, but puts her arm over your shoulder. “You've got a month to think about it.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
The two of you wind up teaching Tully and Churchill poker and play for candy late into the night.


	30. Chapter 30

“Morning. I hope you're ready to be bored.” Randall comments, when he sees you for the first time. He's about your height, slender and toned with light brown hair, but has a slight case of resting douche face as he leans against the leg of the watch station. Despite that, he seems perfectly pleasant as he leads the way up the ladder.   
  
“You don't get a lot of action?” You ask, looking around the interior of the border watch station. The metal-sided shack on stilts, about thirty feet in the air, is a little cramped, a pair of comfortably padded swiveling chairs set between two desks, with tall windows on all four sides offering decent sight lines to either side and along a broad street deeper into Old Brockton. There's a small electric heater, connected to solar panels on the roof, currently glowing cherry red to stave off the October chill, as well as a small water heater and coffee maker.   
  
“Nope.” Randall replies shortly, throwing himself down into a chair and rolling up to a desk set into one side of the station. He makes a note on a clipboard before initialing it, and then pulls out a Capsule, releasing a large Stoutland, who curls up beside the heater on a rug and promptly falls asleep. “Hope you don't mind Scotty.”  
  
You reply by withdrawing Angelica and scratching her ears. “I'm rather fond of dogs myself.” You glance around the small room again. “Can I have my two sapients out as well?”  
  
“There's not much room. If they’re out, they'll need to hang out outside.” Randall comments, pulling a large binder out from a desk drawer. “I usually find it's kinder to keep them stored until the end of the shift, especially as it gets colder.” He glances back at you. “Although part of that is it's easier to deal with Creepo if he doesn't get bored.”  
  
“Creepo?”  
  
“My Mr Mime. He's...” Randal leans back and stares at the ceiling as he searches for a word. “An asshole. Sometimes a funny asshole, but always an asshole.”  
  
“I'll take your word for it.” You reply with a grin. “I get along quite well with my Lucario and Grovyle.”   
  
“Well, bully for you, then.” Randal drawls, pulling a set of pens out and opening the binder, showing page after page of clear plastic card holders, each holding a trading card with a drawn image of a Pokemon. He flips to a blank card, pulls it out, and carefully starts to sketch. “We do the first patrol in half an hour. Might as well settle in, kid, we're going to be here a while.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Border Patrol is dull. To be fair, your Pokemon do get a bit of exercise over the next month – you focus on letting your new Dratini, Mab and Brutus get combat experience whenever possible – but the vast majority of your time is spent on short fifteen-minute patrols where nothing happens, or alternatively on long periods of sitting in the watch station where, once again, nothing happens.   
  
Randall tries to keep things interesting, but in the end, he has his own interests and projects. Inspired by the plane identification card decks issued to soldiers in the Vietnam war and pre-Event baseball cards, he's hit on the concept of creating a card collection game with basic facts and information about different Pokemon. You do manage to while away a couple of days with bouncing ways to make the game more interactive off each other, but in the end, while you can see the use, you just can't muster the interest in balancing stats or abilities or re-writing game rules.   
  
Discussing your respective Pokemon doesn't seem to make time go any faster either. Randall is curious about your team, true, but more in order to assess them as an effective force. He's just not hugely interested in getting to know them, and when you see him interact with his own Pokemon, it's fairly impersonal, with the exception of his Starter, Scotty, and Creepo, who truly lives up to his name. The waist-high Pokemon moves silently, but with exaggerated, deliberate movements, and his eerily human face is incredibly expressive, but always seems to have a leer or malicious glint. Invisible stumbling blocks make you trip, small objects dart out of your reach, and other little pranks force you to constantly be on your guard. Even worse, the Pokemon makes rude or even explicit gestures towards you, and before long, you make a point of having Tully or Angelica out with you whenever the Mr Mime is present.  
  
“I'm sorry about Creepo, Rachel.” Randall explains when you confront him about the behavior of the Psychic Pokemon, about two weeks into your punishment duty. “Part of it is their breeding behavior. Mr Mime make dominance displays toward Jynx in very similar ways. It's...” He grimaces. “Well, if they were humans, it would be domestic abuse when they're courting.”  
  
“That doesn't explain why he's trying to hit on me.” You growl.   
  
“I haven't let him have as much time with Sweetie lately. She's got a clutch, and you have to keep them separated to keep things from getting… rough.” The older man can't quite meet your eyes. “And Mr Mime can be a little… Indiscriminate. Especially since Jynx are somewhat humanoid.”  
  
You sigh. “Just keep him away from me, whenever you can.”  
  
“I will. I don't like it either.” True to his word, from that point, Randall avoids calling out the Mr Mime whenever possible, switching to his Jynx, Sweetie, for Psychic sensory scans. The broad feminine Pokemon is visibly gravid under the long sheets of flesh that make up her 'dress' but at least her disdain for you takes the form of her refusal to acknowledge your existence, and not the form of pranks and sexual harassment.  
  
  
  
You do get quite a bit of training done on your days off or in the evenings after your shifts, building up teamwork and teaching additional moves and skills to each of your Pokemon. With that, and the occasional battles you find yourself in on patrol, you actually decide to shuffle your teams and tactics around somewhat.   
  
You take Acey out of Team Blitzkreig, and have her work closely with Gaius, acting as ranged support while protected by his massive bulk, or putting up barriers of crackling electricity while perched on his shoulder to guard him against attack. Between them, the pair actually manage to harness Acey's electricity through the Aggron's steel armor, allowing him to hover off the ground for short periods, dramatically increasing his speed. When Gaius works out a skating motion, allowing him to dig in his claws and push off at high speeds to hit with Iron Skull or Iron Tail, coupled with the Pikachu throwing bolts of lightning or cones of paralyzing electricity, the combination, the combination is honestly terrifying. You have them well trained enough that they can take basic team instructions, and they can most likely be trusted to act independently to good effect.  
  
Tully, Churchill, and your new Dratini form the foundation of your new core fighting team. The young dragon Pokemon is about six feet long and flies with an undulating swimming motion that allows her a deceptive amount of speed, and while she imprints on you and your team fairly rapidly, she is quite aggressive in combat, either wrapping her target in her powerful coils before releasing a weak wave of electricity to relax their muscles and make it impossible to resist the crushing force, biting with a mouth full of needle-thin fangs, infused with burning purple dragon-fire, or roaring to release a damaging shockwave of the same purple energy. She's quite bright, about as intelligent as Angelica was when you first got her, and works well with both Churchill and Tully, rapidly moving in to strike and debilitate targets, or backing out of melee range to attack from a distance.   
  
Churchill took his wound in the pit fight to heart, and over a couple of weeks, crafted a set of intricate wooden armor, crafted from layer after layer of wafer-thin living wood, laminated together with the grains crossing. The jointed laminar plates bend and flex easily with his movements, and concealed pockets hold a pair of Powerballs. From what he tells you, if it's damaged, he can mend it easily, even mid-combat.   
  
Brutus is still under your direct command, but at least you get him to better understand how to dig and navigate underground, and before long, he's converting his energy to Ground type, allowing him to nearly swim underground, before emerging with a powerful burst of energy and spray of mud and soil. He's as happy and cheerful as ever, and always eager to please. Mab, on the other hand, seems to have manifested an ability on her own, putting on a supernaturally charming expression in an attempt to get additional treats at dinner time. After throwing off the effect, you manage to get her to redirect it and use it on command.  
  
For all the progress your team makes, you're still profoundly bored and itching for something interesting to happen. It's three and a half weeks into your punishment assignment that that your wish comes true. It's mid-afternoon on an overcast day, fall slipping over the horizon, leaving you about to fall headfirst into a northeastern winter. The air is cold and wet. Inside the watch station, Randall is shuffling a set of his trading cards one-handed, while you and Tully play blackjack with a conventional deck.   
  
Just as he is about to lay down a card, Tully glances towards Old Brockton. <_Wait. Something's wrong._> You follow his gaze, peering through the gloom, and don't see anything offhand. Then you hear it. Caws, shrieks, the cries of dozens or evern hundreds of Flying Pokemon, rising in cacophonous chorus, louder and louder.   
  
“What the hell?” Randall mutters, glancing at Creepo. The Mr Mime – only present because the Jynx is at Randall's home, caring for her new clutch of young Smoochum and Mime Jr – glowers at you, before putting two fingers to each of his temples and closing his eyes in concentration. When he opens them again, he's obviously worried, fluttering his fingers in imitation of birds, before looking around as if with binoculars and pretending to nibble his fingernails in fear.  
  
“I know they're scared. I can hear that. What's riling them up?” Randall snaps. You glance over at the city. Clouds of Pokemon are rising from the city, swooping around in great swarms. Already, you can see the flashes of attacks, blades of air bursting with white light and sickly poisonous fangs glinting as the Pokemon start lashing out at each other.  
  
“They're going to be driven this way.” You murmur, and then the impact strikes you. “They're being driven this way! We need to sound the alarm!”  
  
Randall swears viciously, and pulls a large lever, setting off a klaxon that whoops shrilly, lights flashing on the top of your station. Within seconds, a speaker crackles to life. “Station three, what's your status?”  
  
“Something's got all of Old Brockton riled up!” Randall reports, his voice level, but tense. “I can see what looks like the entire population of Flying Pokemon in a full-on air war, but not any reason why.”  
  
“Roger. We'll get field assets to the area ASAP.” The speaker replies, then goes quiet.   
  
“Rachel, get your team ready. Defensive as possible. Even if most of them are weak, we can't take an ongoing assault.”  
  
“Got it.” You look back out over the ruins, and squint. You can see… “Tully, is there something beyond that battle?”  
  
The Lucario drops to a meditative position and closes his eyes. The lobes on the back of his head glow with Aura. You turn back to the battle. While some of the birds and bats are flying your way, many more are dropping, stunned, injured, or dead. And behind them, you can see a uniform hexagonal grid of specks, each dot glinting with reflected light, faint arcs of electricity leaping between them in a honeycomb of energy. You grab a pair of binoculars.  
  
<_Unity of purpose._> Tully murmurs. <_Relentless. Not hungry, but full of need._>  
  
You peer at the dots in the distance, and through the magnification, the dots peer back at you. “Magnemite.” You shift the binoculars, and in a central node in the net of electrical energy, you spot a fused set of three. “And Magneton.” As you watch, a Noivern swoops in, purple dragon-flame pouring from its mouth and burning through the Magnemite making up a broad swath of the net. With a wordless shift, the gaps in the net fill in, and the electric Pokemon move to engulf the dragon bat. In a surge of brilliant white voltage, the bat is fried to a crisp, and it plummets to the ground. Six Magnemite glow white and converge together to form a pair of Magneton, and the swarm encroaches onward.  
  
You look to Randall. “Do you see this?”  
  
He stares back, pale. “Yeah. Magnemite swarm.” The Ranger gulps convulsively. “We're fucked.”  
  
“Call it in. If they come ready for Flying types...”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
It's too late. Already you can see the flashes of teleporting Rangers, Alakazam and Gardevoir appearing briefy to drop off their human cargo before disappearing. Pokemon are fleeing the ruins en mass, and they'll be desperate, scared, and hungry. Brock Town would be an attractive target. Without thinking, you throw yourself out the door and take the ladder down two rungs at a time, Tully right behind you. You glance at the trainers around you, nobody you know, Electabuz and Zebstrika being swapped for Golem and Onix, and grit your teeth. This is what you trained for. This is where you're needed. Sending a silent prayer to any gods that may be listening, you summon your Pokemon, and prepare for battle.


	31. Chapter 31

The leading edges of the flocks of Flying Pokemon, Pidgey and Zubat, Fletchling and Murkrow, all swirling together, lashing out at each other in a panic, are only seconds away. The Magnemite are just behind them, Pokemon being swept up in the net and electrocuted into immobility before to the ground lifelessly. Your mind races, half-forgotten science classes bubbling to the surface. “Tully, Angelica, focus on the Magneton, take them down at range. Break up the swarm, don't get too close.”   
  
<_Understood._> Tully replies sharply, and Angelica barks in agreement.  
  
“Gaius.” You state firmly, and the Aggron turns to you. “Raise one Rock Spike, right about here.” You point a few feet away, at an empty concrete planter. “Over our heads.” Gaius tilts his head to the side, obviously thinking, before slamming his tail on the ground. A spire of rock and concrete explodes from under the planter, jutting rebar, growing until it's easily twenty feet tall. “Attaboy!” You praise, and Gaius gives a pleased rumble. “Now, play defense, keep us safe.” Acey chirrups, an odd questioning squeak, and you turn to her. “Acey, try and absorb and redirect lightning away from us.” You glance at the oncoming flocks. “And take out the birds when you can, without wearing yourself out.”  
  
There's no time left. They're here. “Mab, use Mist up ahead, as tall as you can!” The Vulpix yips, and with a puff of air and spew of breath, she raises a column of frigid mist that slowly starts to sprawl into a broad wall. You can see the mist ripple and waver as Pokemon plunge in, and bare your teeth in a snarl. “Bring it on.”  
  
Time seems to pass in flashes, and you lose yourself in each passing moment. At your command, Brutus shoots birds out of the air with Mud Shots, the sticky dirt fouling their wings, despite their immunity to the Ground-type energy. Iris winds and coils through the air, snapping birds out of the air to swallow whole, or knocking them out of the air with waves of Dragonfire with each warbling roar. Waves and cones of electricity, both from Acey and from the Trainers around you, knock huge swaths of the encroaching flock out of the air, leaving them trembling on the ground, with strings and nets spewed from Bug Pokemon to ensnare them and keep them out of the fight. Thunder snaps and rumbles as the net of Magnemite gets closer, closer, until the first one enters Mab's mist. The white clouds furl and flash, and angry metallic shrieks echo as electricity shorts out in the water vapor. “Great job, Mab! Keep it up!” The little fox snickers, and blows out more mist to thicken the clouds, but you can see steam starting to rise out of the cloud, as the water droplets boil and rises.  
  
You catch motion out of the corner of your eye, and turn slightly to spot Brutus dig himself into a patch of bare dirt, until just his eyes and mouth are visible through thick mud. “Clever boy, Brutus!” The Mudkip croaks in acknowledgment, then returns to watching the flashing cloud.   
  
“Good thinking, Rachel.” Randall comments from behind you. You turn, the toe of your boot catching on something, but you manage to keep from falling. “Damn it, Creepo, not the time!” The trainer spits, and cuffs one of the sensory lobes on the sides of his Mr Mime's head. The mime Pokemon shoots you a dirty look, then ambles forward, nearly to the edge of the mist, where he braces himself against an invisible wall. You can't see the barrier as it forms, but you can see where it isn't, where curling trails of vapor pool, as if against glass. “Sorry about him, Rachel.”   
  
You wave it off. “It's fine. Your other Pokemon?” You note Scotty, his Stoutland, by his side glaring at the cloud and growling.   
  
Randall winces, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “A Snorlax, A Walrein, and a Pidgeot. I had geared towards managing roaming Flying-types, rather than...” He waves into the distance.  
  
“Yeah, I get it. Ice, for Noivern, as well as other fliers.”  
  
“Bingo. It's leaving me feeling a little inadequate.”  
  
Your response is cut off by a cluster of Magnemite emerging from the mist, a Magneton at their center. The hexagonal structure is gone, but as you watch, they snap back into formation and surge at Mr Mime's wall, electricity arcing between them, building and building as it leaps from the edges to the Magneton at the center. The formation of Magnemite curves around, and a ball of shimmering electircity builds between the pair of emotionless enameled eyes of the Magneton, before launching at the Psychic Pokemon. There's a crack of thunder, and the sound of glass creaking and straining, but the ball of electricity dissipates. More Magnemite emerge from the mist, and then lock into the formation.   
  
You glance along the line, where other trainers are already engaged with the Swarm. In the distance, you hear a familiar Charizard's roar, and your lip curls. “Angelica, flank and Hellfire!” you bark. “Iris, other side, Dragon Rage!” The pale blue serpent slithers through the air as your loyal Houndoom darts off, black fire already forming in her mouth, but Magnemite keep coming, as more and more make it through the mist. It throws them off, confuses them, even messes with their communication, but it doesn't stop them, and the crackling electricity that arcs between the Magnemite boils off any residual wetness.   
  
Another ball of electricity, nearly double the size of the first, breaks against the barrier, and the air itself rings like a finger flicking a mammoth crystal goblet. Creepo slides backwards a couple of inches, before pushing back with a silent roar of exertion. The Swarm breaks in two, flowing to the sides, only to meet your Pokemon. Angelica spews a stream of black, sticky flame, going from orb to orb, the hungry fire clinging and consuming, rapidly melting through Magnemite after Magnemite, sending molten metal crashing to the ground in showers of sparks. Even as a pup, she was more than a match for a single Magnemite – now she's holding back a swarm of twenty or more.   
  
Iris swirls and shrieks in rage, cones of purple fire exploding from her mouth with each explosive exclamation, coiling around hurled bolts of electricity. It's less effective – the steel-type is resistant to Dragonfire, but still, she's killed several just in the past few moments. “Tully, go back up Iris.” The Lucario darts away, paws glowing with Aura. By your side, Churchill glowers, but his Grass-type moves would be ineffective here. Acey is perched on Gaius's sholder, cheeks sparking, trembling with the need to move. Still, the loyal Pikachu stays, while the Aggron stands, watching the swarm.  
  
There's a shriek of pure _noise_, and a howl of agony, and your head snaps back over to Angelica, cowering under a cone of thrumming sound emerging from the cupped magnets of a Magneton, its accompanying Magnemite starting to build up an electric charge. You snarl and point, but Gaius is already in motion, half a ton of steel barreling at the smaller Pokemon. One stomp, a little harder than the rest, pops up a spike of rock that the Aggron grabs in one hand and snaps off to wield as a bludgeon. Another few steps, and Gaius is standing over your starter, swinging the rock club like a baseball bat at the Magneton. The Steel Pokemon dodges with an electronic hiss, and bolts of lightning arc out from all directions at the defending Aggron, only to swerve and impact Acey, perched on his shoulder. The Pikachu squeals, her fur standing on end in a corona of static, before she releases a circular barrier of electricity, cycling around your trio of Pokemon in a crackling tornado of energy. Gaius stoops and picks up Angelica's whimpering form, and runs back to you, angry Magnemite in his wake, each bolt of electricity they launch curving into the cyclone.   
  
From his hidden spot, Brutus starts launching Mudshot after Mudshot, the thick globs of energy-laden mud blowing through steel skin like paper. Creepo claps his hands, and a dozen Magnemite crumple in mid-air, only for more to swoop in to crash against another barrier, prompting a mocking middle finger from the Mr Mime. Churchill vanishes from your side, and in a blur of orange skin and brown armor is in the midst of the swarm, sword batting the swooping Magnemite out of the air, to little real damage, admittedly, but disrupting and impairing the swarm. At a loud squeal from Acey, the Grovyle dodges out of the way, and the Electric Fence stops cycling, releasing a bolt of electricity as wide as you are tall back through the Magnemite, leaving twitching steel bodies crashing to the ground, glowing red-hot from over-cooked circuits.   
  
You catch a white glow out of the corner of your eye, but your focus is on Angelica. Gaius gently lays the Houndoom at your feet, and then stomps back into the fray, angling towards where Tully and Iris are battling. Kneeling by Angelica's side, you gently touch her head. She's bleeding from the ears and eyes, the intense soundwaves produced by the Magneton causing some fairly significant damage at short range. She looks a little dazed, too. Gently, you apply a spray injector for a regeneration booster – not a Panacea, you don't think she needs the more powerful medicine – and within a few seconds, she's more alert, although obviously still winded.   
  
You hear a trumpet of triumph, and squeal of twisting metal, and your head pops up to see Gaius lifting another stone club off the mangled remains of a Magneton, brute force and physical strength obviously making up for type disadvantage against the fragile swarm Pokemon. Tully and Iris are still in the fray, but the Lucario is laughing, a high-pitched hyena-like cackle, as Iris uses his body like a jungle gym, snapping off of his arms or back to snap Magnemite out of the air with needle-like teeth, tinted purple with Dragonfire, or simply swung by the Lucario to smack them out of the air for him to skewer with a aura empowered backpaw.   
  
The swarm is thinning, you think. Fewer and fewer Magnemite are emerging from Old Brockton, and as you glance around, the other trainers nearby are mopping up their respective battles. Something… Something feels off. There's something in the air. Other trainers are looking up as well. Then you feel it. A humming, deep in your bones, rattling your teeth. Randall claps his hand to his jaw with a wince. Every single Magnemite and Magneton flees at once, retreating towards the old city, and then you see it.  
  
The Pokemon looks like a flying saucer, a pair of orbs like oversized Magnemite set into its side, with a single oversized eye of white enamel set where a windshield would be on a car. It's as broad as a city street, the orbs on its sides nearly scraping the buildings on either side as it rises from the city. The Swarm surges towards it in a glittering wave, curling and molding around it, snapping together like magnets until the huge Pokemon is the head of a rough humanoid figure made of Magnemite locked together, fifty or sixty feet tall. With an earthshaking thud, the monstrous amalgam takes a step closer, then another.  
  
“OOOOH, fuck.” Randall whimpers.   
  
You glance at him. He really overreacts quite a bit. “I fought an Onyx that was bigger.” The older trainer's head jerks over to you.   
  
“You what.”  
  
You smile, pointing at Churchill, who is standing with the tip of his sword in the ground, frowning at the massive cluster of steel Pokemon. “He nearly killed it.”  
  
“So you're not worried about the enormous mecha made of tens of thousands of Pokemon?” He looks back at it. “The one that looks like it's coming right for us?”  
  
There's the _whump_ of wings, and a Charizard soars overhead to land with a thud beyond the last dregs of dissipating Mist. Kenta leaps off its back and nods to you, a polite inclination of his head. You glare back at him, and he turns without saying anything, pulling out a pair of Capsules. In twin flashes of red light, a heavily scarred Garchomp, easily half again the size of the one you saw in the Trainyards, and a Dragonite, fifteen feet of towering orange scales, appear before him. An odd silence falls over the area, as the amalgam of Magnemite stops moving to stare. “Kill.” Kenta says, and the trio of Pokemon burst into motion.   
  
It's over within seconds, as the earth erupts from underneath the Magnemite, grasping and clawing like the fangs of some great beast and white-hot flame melts the Steel Pokemon into slag, the fire contained and concentrated in a whirlwind until they rise into a tornado of roaring flame.  
  
There's a jangle of steel feathers behind you, and you turn from the spectacle of a single Trainer destroying a thousands-strong throng of Pokemon that had threatened an entire city. The Scarmory lands, and a short woman in a PRT Ranger uniform, her short-cropped hair going from blonde to grey, slides off the saddle on its back. “Randall Earnst.” She barks, as she strides forward, each step a claim of ownership of the territory beneath. She's wearing a black eyepatch over her right eye, a trio of deep scars tracing lines that tell the story of its loss. “Report.”   
  
Randall snaps into a salute. “Commander Piggot! We were combating the Magnemite Swarm, and then an odd Pokemon that I haven't seen before gathered them up and made a body for itself.” He gestures at Kenta, standing with his arms crossed watching the fire. “Then Kenta took it out.”  
  
Commander Piggot curls her lips in a snarl. “I see.” The flames snuff out in an instant, and the jaws of earth gently reshape into a crucible, heat rising from the liquid flame within, and she purses her lips. She glances to you, her grey eye darting over you head to toe, then down to Angelica at your feet, and over to Churchill in his wooden armor at your side. “Trainer Lindt.” Her face doesn't soften, exactly, but the intensity of personality that rolled off her in waves seems to lessen somewhat. “Are you injured?”  
  
“No, ma'am.” You reply. “My Starter caught a bad sonic attack, but otherwise my Pokemon and I are fine.”  
  
The corner of her lip twitches. “Good. Ranger Hollands had good things to say about you.”  
  
“He's been a good mentor.”  
  
“Not the way he tells it.”  
  
You grin. “That's Ethan, I think.”  
  
That lip twitchs again. “Is that so?” She looks back at Kenta, and her expression hardens. The commander marches off towards the taller Asian man, reaching up to jab him in the chest with one finger. You don't think it's coincidence that her finger pokes the eye of one of his tattoos. “What do you think you're doing?”  
  
Kenta raises an eyebrow. “Saving my city?”  
  
“Your city? Who died and made it your city?”  
  
“No one.” The Dragon trainer smirks. “I saved them.”  
  
  
  
You have to repress the chuckle that threatens to arise by reminding yourself that you are still pissed at Kenta, and therefore turn to Randall. “I guess it's over.”  
  
He grins. “Yeah, it looks like it.” He looks out over the war zone. “Not looking forward to the clean-up, though. Lee will be excited to look at the reports. Magnemite swarms are interesting, but that big one? I've never even heard of that before.” His mouth moves as if tasting the shape of a word. “Magnezone.”   
  
“It was something else, I'll give you that.”   
  
<_It had a powerful soul._> Tully states, ambling closer, Iris coiled over his shoulders like a boa, with Gaius ambling in his wake. Acey… Your brow furrows. Acey's fur is still standing on end, her whiskers and tail twitching and trembling.   
  
“So it is dead, then?” Randall asks.  
  
<_Extremely so._>  
  
There's a happy gurgle by your side, and you look down, before instinctively taking a step back. Brutus pouts and whines, his head-fin laying back dejectedly. “Sorry, boy, you startled me. Wasn't expecting to see a Marshtomp.” You reach down and scratch the newly evolved mudpuppy's head. He's nearly tripled in size, and his four legs are much more powerful now. “Did you get enough energy to get bigger?” You coo, and the Marshtomp's hind leg starts thumping. Yep, he's a dog at heart.  
  
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Creepo ambling up, and you frown. The Mr Mime smiles sheepishly, and scuffs his toe on the ground, his hands held behind him. He looks… Embarrassed, almost. You don't trust it. Creepo starts picking imaginary flowers, before gathering them together into a bouquet and offering them to you.  
  
“No, I'm not playing along.” You deadpan.  
  
The Mr Mime scowls, then smirks. An illusory pair of fingers pinch your ass. You see red, and the last thing you see before your fist caves in that smug face is a pair of wide, surprised eyes. Creepo bounces like a rubber ball, before leaping to his feet, fists clenched, but Angelica and Tully are in front of you before he can approach. “Randall.” You grit out. “Recall that damn mime before we kill him.”  
  
There's a loud “_CHUUUU_!” and a bolt of lightning drops out of the sky, sending the Mr Mime tumbling backwards, livid red burn marks rising on his white flesh. You snap your head over, and spot Acey. Or rather, you assume it's Acey, because the Raichu hovering in midair where your Pikachu was is a Raichu unlike any you had seen before. She's standing in mid-air on her long tail, the sharp-edged lightning bolt sported by other Raichu puffed up into a thick zigzag. As you watch, Acey squeals, and does a flip in mid-air, and you feel a flash of joy slip into your mind.  
  
Randall gapes, but recovers, before recalling Creepo to his Capsule. “Rachel, what the hell?”   
  
“Your Pokemon pinched my ass.”  
  
He waves it off. “I figured, he had it coming. What the hell happened to your Pikachu?”  
  
“I don't know? Acey, can I get you back in your Capsule?”  
  
The Raichu squeaks, swooping in to settle in front of you, and you tap her with the ball. With a couple of key punches, you pull up her information on the new Pokepedia strapped around your arm. “The analysis shows that she's Electric/Psychic now. Handy, but why?”   
  
“You had a Solosis before, right? Did they spend a lot of time together?”  
  
You almost reply in the negative, but… Sunshine spent most of her time out of the Capsule, so for months, any time Acey was out, Sunshine was too, and they did train some, Sunshine's barriers against Acey's lightning. “Maybe. I guess.”  
  
“Sometimes, Pokemon are influenced by the Pokemon around them.” Randall muses. “I'm not the researcher, though.”   
  
You release Acey from her Capsule again, and she zips over to zoom and soar around Gaius, the Aggron rumbling with what almost seems like laughter. You sigh. “Gaius, you thinking now?”  
  
The enormous steel Pokemon looks at you for a long moment, then shrugs.  
  
Turning to Randall in despair, you groan, “Please tell me I'm old enough to drink.” He doesn't stop laughing until Ethan shows up to debrief you.  
  
  
  
After some explanation in his office, Ethan glares at you. “So, you manage it yet again. In the aftermath of an event we have only seen a handful of times, with the presence of a mysterious Pokemon that has never before been documented, you manage to not only uplift your Aggron to sapience, giving you a total of _four_ sapient Pokemon, but you also manage to have your Pikachu evolve with a Psychic trait, something that we have only seen once.” He groans and tries to cup his head in his hands, only to recoil as he nearly jabs his eye with his prosthetic. “I swear, you have something making things fucking _weird_ around you.”  
  
“I didn't ask for any of this weirdness.” You mumble. “I just wanted to raise a strong team and then retire to breed dog Pokemon.”  
  
Ethan smiles. “Well, your team is fairly strong, I'll give you that.” He shakes his head again, then changes the subject. “Have you spoken with Taylor?”  
  
You grimace. “Not yet. I was planning too, but...”  
  
He nods. “I get it. Hash things out, or get the paperwork in to change Partners. We can't keep you out of the field. Commander Piggot told me that your punishment detail is ended, as of today, so you'll be back to your regular duties.” There's a knock at the door, and Ethan grins. “What a coincidence, here's Taylor now.” You shoot him a dirty look, but he just grins wider. “Come in!”  
  
Taylor lets herself into the office, spots you, and freezes. “Rachel?” She whispers. Oh god, there's tears already.  
  
“Hey.” You manage, before you're hit by a long-haired missile. Taylor's arms wrap around you in a hug, and you rock back in your chair with a wheeze.  
  
“I'm sorry, Rachel… I'm so sorry. I asked you to help and then I didn't do shit, and then I fucking froze when you jumped into action to help me and to help Brian, and all I could think about was _Mom_ when he set that Lucario on you and I'm sorry….”  
  
You gingerly pat her back, and look over at Ethan helplessly. He shrugs, and lets himself out of a back door.  
  
“It's...” You sigh. “I was really hurt, you know. I trusted you to have my back.”  
  
Taylor pulls away and sits in the chair next to you, sniffling. “I know. I was… Well, I was desperate to save Brian. I thought I could trust Kenta, the bastard, and then you were there.” She lowers her head. “And then we get there and that girl calls out Beedrill, and…” She shudders. “That threw me off, and then you jumped into the cage, and I _knew_ that if I jumped in that Kenta might throw the match in Brad's favor out of some stupid honor, and then I was taking care of Brian.” She's quiet for a minute. “When Brad had that Lucario attack you, there was nothing I could do. There were Mr Mime protecting the arena.”  
  
You grimace. “I had a bad experience with a Mr Mime earlier.”  
  
Taylor giggles weakly. “I heard, the rumor that you punched out a Pokemon went around like wildfire.”  
  
“I didn't punch it out, I just punched it. He just got up, madder, and then got shocked into oblivion.”  
  
“Still, you punched it.” Taylor sighs. “I don't think you get what you look like, from the outside.”  
  
Huh?  
  
Taylor glances at your expression. “You always seem to have a plan. You walk around with a pair of Pokemon that act like people, and you treat them just the same. You got special permission to carry eight Pokemon into the field, when even experienced trainers often don't have more than six.”  
  
“That all just happened, I didn't ask for it.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“Oh.”   
  
Taylor shakes her head. “In school, you were just the grumpy girl who was good at a couple of things, and now you're this monster, and everyone knows that you're a legend in the making.”  
  
You shake your head. “I'm no legend.”  
  
“Did you know that Kenta was in the running to be the head of the PRT, before he decided to quit?”  
  
“No, I didn't.”  
  
“He came to you, and chose you to make a point to a bunch of hardened, callous trainers and killers.”  
  
You scowl. “I don't like him.”  
  
“Me either, but he saw something. He gave you a Dratini, one of his Dragonite's eggs.” Taylor runs her fingers through her hair. “I don't know if I can live up to what you're becoming.” She slumps. “But I'm sorry that I let you down. I don't ever want to do that again.”  
  
You sigh. “I forgive you...”


	32. Chapter 32

You sigh. Taylor let you down, but… Well, she seems remorseful, and wants to make things better. Ultimately, you can't throw away a friend over one mistake. “I forgive you, so I guess we're still partners.”  
  
Taylor smiles weakly. “Thanks, Rachel.”  
  
“We just have to work on that freezing thing.” You grunt. “And the bug thing.”  
  
Taylor nods. “Dad and Brian said the same thing.” She looks at her lap, fiddling with her hands, her long hair falling in front of her face. “I… I told them about hearing the bugs.”  
  
“Did it go ok?”   
  
“Dad… Well, he had a hard time believing me, but in the end, I guess he accepted that it's at least what I think I hear. Brian believed me right away.” You can see a hint of a smile behind the curtain of curls, before it fades again.  
  
“Well, that's good.”  
  
“Dad got me to see a therapist.”  
  
You… don't really have an answer for that. There were a couple of cursory appointments with vaguely remembered psychologists, years ago, but little came of it. “Is… Is it helping?” You eventually ask.  
  
“A little. I guess.” Taylor mumbles. She pulls a Capsule out of her pocket – You see that it's one of the smaller versions that Professor Wallis was working on – and releases a Pokemon. In a tiny flash of red light, a fuzzy yellow Pokemon, little more than an inch long, appears on her knee. It blinks four bright blue eyes at you, and then spins in place and hops onto her palm, where it starts nuzzling her thumb. “Ms Yamada got me to try raising a Bug type, just to try and get past my issues with them.” Taylor brushes her hair out of her face, tucking the locks behind her ear, and then starts gently stroking the Joltic's soft abdomen with her index finger. “Her name is Fuzzbutt, and she's a sweetie.”   
  
“Sounds like a good start.” You say softly.  
  
“Yeah.” Taylor meets your eyes. “I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with Beedrill, or some of the other big Bug types, but...” She looks away, petting Fuzzbutt again. “She called me 'Mama'. It's easy to ignore it when I hear 'Queen' or 'Mistress', but 'Mama'?”  
  
“I get it. It puts a whole new context on being a Trainer, doesn't it?”  
  
“Yeah.” Taylor is quiet for a minute or two, just petting the Joltic, until it lightly nips her fingertip, darts up her shoulder, and nestles itself into to the folds of her hoodie. “Ok, Fuzzbutt, time for your Capsule.” In a flash of light, the Joltic disappears.   
  
Ethan pokes his head back into the office. “Everything good?”  
  
“Yeah. We're going to stick it out.” You reply.  
  
“Good. Come back tomorrow for an assignment. Now get out, I have things to do.” Ethan grins. “See ya later, kids.”  
  
“Later, Ethan.” You let yourself out of the office and make your way outside, Taylor ambling beside you. When you reach the lobby, you have to resist the urge to laugh at the expression of the receptionist. Maybe you shouldn't have left all four of your sapient Pokemon out of their Capsules, but… Well, you know Churchill doesn't like the stasis, and Tully and Angelica always well behaved, even when you're not around, and Gaius is pretty calm. To be fair, to anyone that doesn't know your Pokemon well, watching Tully and Churchill teach Taylor's Kirlia, Arwen, how to play Go Fish, while Gaius quietly sits propped on his tail, watching intently, would be quite odd indeed. Angelica looks up from her position curled up under Tully's chair, and wiggles out to bounce over to you.  
  
<you have threes yes threes give!> Arwen squeals triumphantly, prompting Churchill to grin, shaking his head, before taking one claw away from his cards.  
  
{No, no threes}  
  
<no lies, felt threes you have!>  
  
Churchill taps the side of his head.  
  
{Thought threes, no cards.}  
  
Arwen throws down her cards and crosses her arms in a huff. <dumb dumb game.>  
  
<_Sore loser._> Tully teases, his tongue lolling out happily.  
  
The receptionist looks over at you in relief. “Can you please store your Pokemon before visiting your mentor next time, Rachel? It was ok when it was just the Houndoom, but leaving four in the lobby is just too much.”  
  
“Yeah, Sorry about that.” You reply. “Time to go, guys.” Scratching Angelica's ears, you turn to Taylor. “See you tomorrow?”  
  
“Actually, Dad wanted to see if you would like to come to our place for supper tonight.” Taylor says.  
  
Oh. That's… You've never been invited to someone's house before. Hell, half your classmates were in group homes growing up, and you were enough of an anti-social bitch that nobody really wanted to be your friend. Taylor sees your expression and her face falls.  
  
“I mean, if you don't want to...”  
  
“No, I'd be happy to come over.” You state hurriedly. “Sorry, just… Thinking. Do you need me to bring anything?” You think that's how it works? In some of the books you read, at least.  
  
Taylor shakes her head. “No, Lacey killed a Piloswine nosing around the docks yesterday, and gave Dad about half of it. We're having a big roast.” She glances around. “I explained that your Pokemon are sapient, and he says there's enough for them as well. Brian and Aisha will be there too.”  
  
“Well, if I'm not imposing, I'd love to.” You agree. Never turn down free food, especially Piloswine. The pork has a delicious cool minty flavor, and is highly prized – and expensive, since Piloswine are no pushovers.   
  
It's been a long day, but despite the fatigue of the battle earlier, you find yourself looking forward to dinner. Walking with Taylor through Brock Town is fun, especially watching Gaius look around at all the new scenery. It's interesting, how different Gaius is from your other sapient Pokemon. Churchill is serious and hard working, with a sneaky manner he learned as a Treecko and carried over and developed, with a passion for learning and improving in any way he can. Anything he does, he approaches as training. Tully, true to his typing, loves a good fight or improving his martial prowess, but also loves laughing, playing, and joking around. He, more than Church, latched onto card games, learning new ones at a fairly astounding rate. Over your month-long punishment detail, Randall had taught him some shuffling tricks, and the Lucario proved remarkably dextrous at manipulating cards, despite his canine paws. Angelica is content to be the loyal dog, but has taken Mab and Brutus under her wing, correcting and teaching them with a firm paw. You think she'll be a good mother, if it comes down to it.   
  
Gaius, on the other hand, is placid until provoked, and invariably calm. As you think back over the past month since his evolution, little things that you hadn't truly noticed before click together, mostly in his interactions with Acey. The Aggron is calm, patient, and seems content with simply being included. You'll have to see what he wants in life, now that you're aware of his sapience.  
  
The sun is setting by the time you reach Taylor's home in an old residential area in Brock Town. The two-story house is obviously pre-Event, and is in relatively good shape, all things considered. Taylor walks up the steps to a small porch, skipping a step, and pulls the door open without knocking. “Dad, I'm home!”  
  
You follow her inside, your stomach growling at the scent of cooking Piloswine filling the home. It's cozy, a little tattered from long years, but obviously well loved. Gaius rumbles behind you, and you turn to see him looking dubiously at the steps. When he meets your eyes, he rolls his shoulders obviously. “Sorry, Gaius. Let me see what we can do.” Now that you think about it, he's too wide and tall for the doorways in this old house anyway.  
  
“Oh. He is big, isn't he?” You turn at the voice from behind you, and see Taylor's father for the first time. Tall, balding, and rail-thin, although with the wiry muscles that come with years of work, rather than true emaciation. He wears thin-rimmed glasses, but behind them, green eyes assess you carefully. “We have tables out in the back yard, I'll walk you to the gate.” He holds out one wiry hand, and you shake it. “Danny Hebert.”  
  
“Rachel Lindt.” You reply. “Thank you for inviting me.” Danny leads you to the side of the house where a tall wooden fence, long left unpainted, but still standing straight, obscures the back yard.   
  
“Thank you for helping my daughter.” The older man says softly. “She was drifting away, and you told her to reach back out to me.”  
  
You stop. “She told you that?”  
  
“Brian did.” Mr Hebert grimaces. “As much as I don't like the boy's initial judgement, he had a wake-up call when he lost his foot. Grew up a lot.” Danny smiles slightly. “Heard you had a hand in that, too. You've done a lot for us.”  
  
To your surprise, you find yourself blushing. “Just trying to help.”  
  
Danny chuckles. “That you did.” He pushes open the gate into the back yard, and Gaius carefully squeezes through. “Don't let it go to your head.”  
  
“I'm not. Just… Trying to take care of my team – my friends – as best I can.”  
  
“What more can any of us do?” Danny asks rhetorically as he turns to go in the back door. “Supper will be ready in a few minutes.”  
  
  
  
The evening passes with good food, laughter, jokes, and games, Tully raking in half his weight in candied fruit in a four-way poker game, while Alisha and Acey use a patient Gaius like a jungle gym, and Churchill leading Arwen in meditation in front of the old oak in the back yard, lit by the light of the moon and gas lanterns. It feels like Family. It feels good, like something is filling in slowly that you hadn't known felt so empty. You chat with Danny, Taylor, and Brian late into the night, bouncing from literature to mythology, mythology to ancient history, with dips into classic rock and poetry, of all things. In the end, you wind up passing out in an armchair, only to wake up with the dawn.  
  
After a quick breakfast and a jog over to your quarters to shower, change, and don a new uniform, you're back in Ethan's office with Taylor again. He's nursing a hot tea, and frowning at the screen on his computer.  
  
“Good, you're here. I'm sending you to a greenhouse farm a little south of Brock Town. They've been having some issues with their produce and tools being moved around or misplaced, only to be found in odd or impossible places later. It started off mild, but it's getting to the point where it's starting to hamper their ability to function. Nobody has any clues as to what, but it seems like the work of some kind of prankster 'Mon.” Ethan turns to you. “Rachel, you're a trouble magnet, and this seems like something that will be right up your alley. The brass think you may be able to draw whatever's doing this out.” He smirks. “Put your weirdness to work.”  
  
“Got it.” You reply with a smile.  
  
“Taylor, you good?” Ethan asks. “Yamada released you for duty -” Your head snaps over to look at your partner, “- but I need to know that you'll be all right if this turns out to be a bunch of Cutiefly or something.”  
  
Taylor nods. “I'm good.” At Ethan's stare, she blushes, looking at her feet. “I'll deal.”  
  
The Ranger smiles softly. “I trust you, Taylor. We have your back.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Ok, go figure it out. Have fun!” Ethan takes a big gulp of his tea. “God, I miss coffee.” He mutters to himself.  
  
  
  
You and your partner are on your way south by noon. The day is cool, but clear, the sun shining weakly overhead. Rolling your pack on your shoulders, you smile to yourself. It's a good day for a walk. A few minutes down the road, you glance at your partner. “So, how much did you actually tell your therapist about the Bug thing.”  
  
Taylor looks back at you sheepishly. Fuzzbutt is tucked up in her hood, the tiny yellow Joltic staring out at the world in wide-eyed wonder. “Ummm… I told Yamada everything. It kind of slipped out, and she promised confidentiality. She said that she would tell the PRT that I was working on beating a phobia.”   
  
“Which is fairly accurate.” You inject, and your friend shoots you a mock glare.  
  
“So I don't think I'm going to be taken away and experimented on, yet.”  
  
“That's good.”  
  
The old road to the south is fairly well tended, but not frequently used, and you don't see another soul. As you walk, however, the air goes still, the calls of Spearow in the distant trees going quiet. By your side, Tully tenses.  
  
<_Wha-_>  
  
The Pokemon appears silently, just feet away. Resembling a hairless cat with a tail twice as long as its body curled loosely around it, it hovers in mid-air, paws dangling, the sun glinting oddly off vibrant pink skin. It floats closer to you, huge black eyes drawing you in deeper and deeper. They're larger on the inside, holding infinity in their depths, leaving you lost in the unfathomable darkness of space. You feel yourself being studied, not just your mind, but your very soul, flipped through like the pages of a book.   
  
**You'll Do.**   
  
The statement is written in the fabric of the universe, and you have only a moment to meet Taylor's horrified gaze, before you both disappear in a burst of indescribable color.

**Author's Note:**

> To view the main thread, where you can vote, view fan-made character art, and get further information on the world, visit the quest thread here: https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/pokemon-bet-or-how-i-learned-to-appreciate-the-post-apokepocalipse.55871/


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